


Safety

by vivi1138



Series: Lilium School For Magic [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animagus, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Arts, Don't copy to another site, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, F/F, F/M, Good Slytherins, Hogwarts Fifth Year, M/M, Other, Powerful Astoria, Powerful Harry, Private School, Purebloods figuring out how to use a microwave, Rituals, Theo enjoys cooking, Wandmaking (Harry Potter), sirius is a good godfather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 16:14:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 75,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17646131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivi1138/pseuds/vivi1138
Summary: Cedric Diggory is dead, Voldemort is reborn. Narcissa Malfoy knows what this means for her son, and she will not let him be Marked. Even if it means fleeing Britain.With Amelia Bones' help, a safe haven welcomes six teenagers who have no wish to bow to Voldemort. The only catch? They'll need to adapt to a Muggle lifestyle.With private teachers to continue their schooling, isolated from the rest of the world, they certainly don't expect to enjoy themselves, especially after Harry Potter himself joins them.A story where Umbridge wreaks havoc on Hogwarts and Harry is not there to see it.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> _Disclaimer: I own nothing but the idea behind this fic and the few original characters. The rest belongs to J.K.Rowling._
> 
> \---------------
> 
> Do not copy this story, post it on another site, or translate it without my permission, please.
> 
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>  
> 
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> 
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> 
> This is part 1 of a series where Hogwarts is not the main setting. Very few chapters will be set in Britain, especially in this part of the story. More characters will become important as the story goes on, and I intend to have this go all the way to the Battle of Hogwarts. 
> 
> Canon elements will still be present but most of them have a role in the background. Some small changes have a big impact.
> 
>  
> 
> Important note: not a native speaker, no beta at the moment, I'll do my best! Fast updates for now but will not promise to be able to keep the same rhythm all the way through.

Amelia Bones inwardly groaned when she received her secretary’s message. It was almost time for her to go home and she was looking forward to taking a long, hot bath. She desperately needed her well-deserved day off after the hellish week she just went through but of course, hoping to finish on time today would have been too much to ask.

 

On her desk sat the paperwork Minister Fudge generated when he ordered Bartemius Crouch Junior’s execution on the grounds of Hogwarts without due process. Next to it, the _Daily Prophet_ , unread, reported Cedric Diggory’s funeral on its front page. Amelia had no desire to subject herself to Rita Skeeter’s drivel, not after attending said funeral and having to console her distressed niece. It had been a long time since such a tragic event happened so publicly.

 

Amos Diggory visited her office daily: a broken man who demanded to know why no one spoke about You-Know-Who’s return. She understood his plea but she had not seen proof of his revival herself. She was not so convinced. This did not mean she approved of the way the _Daily Prophet_ and Minister Fudge reacted: seeing Harry Potter treated so horribly in the paper turned her stomach. Unfortunately, she had to be careful, and couldn’t speak out: if Potter had been truthful, their world was on the brink of war, and she held a position that would prove invaluable. She couldn’t afford to lose it. Cornelius' only goal in life was to keep the public’s approval and she wouldn’t put it past him to bury his head in the sand too deep. So, she kept her mouth shut, but her eyes wide open.

 

She sent a reply to her secretary and waited for her visitor. She was so certain it would be Amos, that she briefly lost her usual composure at the sight of the woman who stepped into her office. There, regal and beautiful as always, stood Narcissa Malfoy.

 

She was dressed in elegant black robes etched with silver and gold. Her hair was pinned in an elaborate crown, emeralds gleaming between her blond strands. Looking closely however revealed barely contained emotion brewing under her usual impassive gaze.

 

“Madam Bones, I trust no one can eavesdrop?”

 

Amelia proved it by casting her usual charms around the room, then nodded and offered her a seat.

 

“Madam Malfoy, what can I do for you?”

 

“We need your help.”

 

A piece of parchment, hidden within Narcissa’s robes, made its way into Amelia’s hands. She frowned slightly and read:

 

_Millicent Bulstrode, Astoria Greengrass, Daphne Greengrass, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini_

_Emmeline Bulstrode, Nathan Greengrass, Narcissa Malfoy on behalf of Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott, Isabella Zabini_

 

Narcissa volunteered an explanation before Amelia could speak:

 

“We wish to save our children from a life of servitude,” she started. “They need an escape, and they require protection. Mister Potter spoke the truth.”

 

Amelia stiffened, yet she wasn’t surprised. And if high profile Pureblood children sought sanctuary, she would not let them down. However, she had reservations.

 

“Why not leave the country with your families?”

 

“The parents I did not list need to be kept in the dark. It is vital that they do not have any way to find them.”

 

“What about Theodore Nott? He only has one living relative I believe. Emerick Nott would report it as kidnapping.”

 

“They all will,” Narcissa replied, her tone unchanged. “But Theodore came to me. I am his godmother. I would do anything for him, and for my son.”

 

“Forgive me for asking, but how can we be certain that none of them wishes to take the Mark?”

 

A flinch, subtle but unmistakable, shook the blond woman’s hands.

 

“Draco’s only wish was to make his father proud. He espoused his views until he realised what it meant. Nothing was concrete until the Diggory boy’s death. My son never truly wished harm on anyone, he was merely a child imitating what he had always seen and heard. He has questioned our so-called supremacy since he was thirteen, but was wise enough to keep on pretending.”

 

Amelia thought about her own childish beliefs, about those who fought on the wrong side of the past war yet realised their mistakes. She did not ask what Narcissa herself thought. Unlike Dumbledore, she didn’t believe in second chances so easily, but a child maturing and changing their mind, rebelling against their upbringing, was such a common occurrence that she couldn’t ignore Narcissa’s request.   

 

“I’ll find someplace safe.” She sipped her tea. “However, they will have to leave the country.”

 

It was too risky to keep them within the borders: finding a blood relative who resided within a certain perimeter would be a piece of cake for any of these old families if they turned to blood magic.

 

Narcissa stood up. “I am aware. I will be in touch. I fear we have little time, and I would like to think I can trust you to make it so no one can track them.”

 

Amelia walked her to the door, nodding, and watched her leave. So much for a relaxing bath this evening: she would not let these teenagers fall into the hands of a monster.

 

Only three days later, a dragon Patronus appeared in her office, and her blood froze.

 

_“There is no more time. It happens now. Save them.”_


	2. Nightmares

Draco had never been prone to nightmares, except when he was very little and sometimes dreamt of a possessed toy lying in wait under his bed. Now, however, he knew what it meant to be scared to close his eyes. The dead body of the Hufflepuff Champion kept flashing into his mind, the terror on Potter’s face haunted his every thought. He remembered the blood dripping from his arm, the screams, and then those words. _He’s back_.

For as long as he remembered, Draco was taught to despise others. Muggles, who were no better than animals. Muggleborns, who stole magic from witches and wizards, creating squibs. Squibs themselves, who had been weak enough to let other people steal their magical core. Half-blood, for daring to have parents who sullied themselves. Blood traitors, who spat on their own ancestry and the glory of their heritage.

He had been raised to be exceedingly proud of his name. He was a Malfoy. He was a Black. He came from two of the purest lines and he was born to honour his legacy.

Until reality came crashing down on him.

He conveniently forgot that Harry Potter, whom he grew up hearing tales about from his friends and from his favourite books, had a Muggleborn mother. This fact became useful when his offer of friendship was rejected: it was easier to hate him if he remembered his dirty blood.

For his first two years of school, Draco didn’t question his own views. But in Third Year, the Dementors happened.

They made him experience true fear. To protect himself, he became even more odious and made sure to hurt those he considered so inferior. Yet at night, alone behind the green curtains of his bed in the Slytherin dormitory, he wondered.

The inconsistencies in his beliefs had always been there but he conveniently ignored them. Granger was too smart to have been raised by Muggles, wasn’t she? Stealing magic would require a tremendous power - surely Muggles weren’t capable if they were so unintelligent. Why hide from them, then? Why were they able to kill so many witches and wizards in the past, something that Ministry-approved school texts pretended never happened? If Muggles were to be feared, there had to be a reason for it.

Draco’s upbringing didn’t add up with his discoveries and questions.

In Fourth Year, he was forced to acknowledge that death was no longer an abstract concept.

He made sure to insult Potter on the train back to London. After all, it was easier to hate, than to ask for forgiveness.

His mother whisked him away from King’s Cross with a warning: keep the pretence at all costs. He had never seen her so tense: she held his shoulder in an iron grip.

When he arrived home, his father requested his presence in his private office. There was a strange gleam in his eyes, one that made him uneasy, and he repeated his mother’s warning in his head as Lucius rose from his chair and grasped his upper arms.

The man looked at him, a strange smile on his lips. There was only one strand of hair out of place, but it made him look dishevelled. He seemed almost… giddy. Twitchy, like he had been held under the Cruciatus for slightly too long. Barely restrained glee mixed with awe and reverence seeped through his voice when he told him the Dark Lord was back.

It was then that it hit Draco: Lucius was insane. He was a fanatic. He had never been under the Imperius curse and was a superb actor. And Draco had been emulating him all his life.

Hiding his disgust and fighting to keep his voice from wavering, he declared his intention to honour the Malfoy name. He went even further, believing that in his current state, his father might not be satisfied with his usual promises: he asked when he could be Marked. The false anticipation he displayed masked his dread. Thankfully, Lucius, usually so perceptive, was currently blind to his son’s deception.

He told him he knew he would make a fine Death Eater and praised his eagerness. He said that the Dark Lord didn’t recruit teenagers so young, but that he would speak on his behalf and perhaps, around Yule, Draco would get a magical tattoo on his left forearm.

Draco was then dismissed and kept a straight face until he reached the safety of his room. He closed the door and fell to his knees.

Draco Malfoy wasn’t prone to nightmares, but he knew he would be from now on.

That first night, he woke up screaming.

The second night, his father came back from a meeting in full Death Eater garb, leaving bloody footprints behind him. There was little doubt that the Dark Lord’s followers who avoided Azkaban needed to prove their worth and Draco had a sick feeling that the blood on Lucius’ shoes was not his own.

On the morning of the third day, Lucius brought a tiny white kitten home.

On the morning of the third day, Draco was asked to practice Skinning and Entrails-Expelling curses. With bile at the back of his throat, he confessed he first needed to learn them.

Lucius frowned. He told him to pick up the kitten, keep it in his room, and bring it to his office the next day, after taking the time to read about the spells.

In his room, cradling the scared animal, Draco wept. Unbeknownst to him, a Patronus was already making its way to Amelia Bones’ office.

The sun was shining through the wide window of the dining room when the teenager joined his parents for breakfast, schooling his features to appear calm, a glamour hiding the dark circles under his eyes. Perhaps his father forgot about the kitten? He certainly seemed less agitated, simply reading the _Daily Prophet_.

The day’s mail appeared on the table just as Draco was buttering his toast. Lucius folded the newspaper and glanced at the letters, before looking at his son curiously and handing him a black envelope.

** DURMSTRANG INSTITUTE **

Temporary Headmaster: **VADYM BORYSENKO**

_ (Former Ukrainian Minister of Magic, Order of Merlin, Second Class, Master of Necromancy and Ancient Runes) _

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for a week-long seminar on the Dark Arts at Durmstrang Institute. Books and equipment will be provided. Travel to the Institute will be arranged via International Portkey departing from King’s Cross station in London, in two days, at noon. We await your owl within the next twenty-four hours.

Yours sincerely,

_ Natashia Jastrzemski _

Deputy Headmistress

Draco’s eyes widened and he read it once more, aloud. His father cast a detection charm on the paper.

“It’s genuine,” the man said, obviously impressed.

“It must have been a recommendation from one of the Durmstrang students,” Draco mused, flooded with relief at the prospect of fleeing the manor for a week. “They stayed in Slytherin House all year.”

“With good connexions, you’ll go far, son.”

He nodded, then looked at his mother, who was quietly sipping her tea.

“May I go?” he asked.

She hesitated, placed her cup back on the table, softly took the letter, and sighed before giving her approval. Lucius summoned an elf who brought him his stationery and he wrote a response with a proud expression.

The rest of the day was spent in confusion for the Malfoy heir. He packed his school trunk, just emptied from Hogwarts, with his best cloak and three sets of black robes, then his potion kit, quills and parchment. He cuddled the kitten, who hadn’t wandered but did make a mess on the bed and thought the letter might have helped his father forget what he had requested of him. He Scourgified his sheets, repaired his pillows, and waited.

***

_ King’s Cross, Platform 9 ¾ _

Luck was on their side, Amelia Bones thought: a Wizengamot session prevented Lucius Malfoy from being here today. She cleared the remnant of Floo travel from her brown robes and was met with the curious stares of a small group of teenagers, and the determined faces of their relatives.

Theodore Nott, with his windswept brown hair and Roman nose, was the only one who stood without a parent.

Amelia cast privacy wards and greeted the children. “Do you know why you’re here?” The platform was empty, but there was no need to take risks.

“Aren’t we going to Durmstrang for a week?” the youngest Greengrass girl replied, confused.

Her father shook his head and after a short nod from both Amelia and Narcissa, explained the situation:

“You are all here because, in one way or another, the Dark Lord will recruit you against your will.” They all paled. “We won’t let this happen.”

“I was asked to find a haven for all of you. An old friend from Durmstrang sent your invitations to keep them genuine: as you know, the seal of a school possesses magic that cannot be copied. This Portkey will take you to Denmark, where you will meet an Auror and a Healer who were sworn to secrecy. Your journey will continue until you reach the location I have found. There will be several stops along the way to cover your tracks. Once you arrive at your final destination, the area will be further secured by each adult, and your parents will then go home.”

She let the news sink in, noticing the worried glances exchanged between the Malfoy boy and Theodore.

“Now, unfortunately, you cannot take your wands with you.” She waited, grateful that she wasn’t speaking to Gryffindor students who would loudly complain, but also saddened by the acceptance she slowly witnessed in their resigned expressions. These children were terrified enough to part from their wands, and it broke her heart. “You will be given temporary wands by the end of summer, but I’m afraid you will have to learn to live without magic for a time. Letters to and from you will temporarily be forbidden.”

Draco raised his hand slowly after she collected each wand from them. It was so strange to see him unsure, almost shy.

“What about school?” he said.

“I’ll work with my contacts to find teachers for you. I intend to have all of you pass your OWLs this year, except for Astoria, however, there will still be a good amount of self-study and tutoring between you. I can only do so much.”

“This place,” Millicent Bulstrode started, “is it Muggle?”

Realisation dawned on them and they looked at her like they were starving for an answer. Amelia smiled.

“It is. It’ll be warded, unplottable, and under a Fidelius Charm. But the appliances inside will all be Muggle in nature, so there will not be many areas where you will be able to practice magic without affecting your surroundings.”

She had decided to use the same wards that protected the Muggle neighbourhood from the heavy, constant magic in Diagon Alley. This meant appliances would work inside, but not if magic was used within the wards themselves. She intended to have at least one room with the same wards to allow them to practice inside, or perhaps in another building on site. From her initial research, the location was an abandoned Muggle hotel near a Fjord in Norway and had at least two different buildings. The necessary protections would be placed after the children’s arrival.

“That’ll be like going to a Muggle training camp or something,” Blaise Zabini muttered without malice.

“At least I know what a washing machine is,” Millicent snickered. “I can’t wait to see you guys panic because you can’t even turn on the light in a room.”

While Draco protested with his nose in the air, Amelia asked them to hold onto the rope that would Portkey them away. It was time.


	3. Portkey

It was almost too warm in Copenhagen when the group appeared inside a privacy bubble behind the Danish Ministry of Magic. Astoria Greengrass looked sick and Draco couldn’t blame her: International Portkeys used to make him nauseous when he was a child. He slowly got used to them after several vacations with his parents.

 

“Wotcher, people!”

 

He turned around and felt his mother’s grip tighten suddenly on his arm. The woman in front of them wore red Auror robes that clashed violently with her bright pink hair. She stood next to a tall and skinny man whose bald head shone under the sun. She was chewing something and seemed too cheerful for the occasion. She stepped closer and winked at him.

 

“Cousin, Aunt, nice to finally meet you.”

 

Draco blinked slowly, speechless. Someone giggled, probably wondering how they could appear on the same family tree. To be honest, he was asking himself the same thing.

 

“You must be Nymphadora,” his mother said, surprising him.

 

The young woman grimaced, then looked at Draco. “Call me Tonks. I’m your aunt Andromeda’s daughter.”

Now Draco remembered one of the taboos of his childhood. Nobody spoke of the people who had been burned off the Black family tapestry.

 

The tall man waved at them. “I’m Healer Crowfeet. Tonks and I are on a special assignment and will stay with you lot. Now, the Danish Ministry kindly provided us with two Portkeys, so half of you are coming with me to Finland, the others follow Tonks to Sweden. We’ll regroup after the next Portkey.”

 

Astoria groaned while Daphne rubbed her back. There was no time to speak or to ask all the questions Draco wanted answers to. A few moments later he and his mother, the Greengrass, Theo and Nym- Tonks, were in Helsinki.

 

The Auror erected a new privacy bubble, cast _Tempus_ , and met with a figure shrouded in a long grey coat, face hidden. A vow was spoken, the words of which Draco couldn’t hear, and the figure Disapparated. Tonks smiled, winked again, and the Malfoy heir felt the familiar tug of the new Portkey.

 

“Welcome to St. Petersburg,” Tonks exclaimed.

 

There was nothing of interest around them, as they had, once more, appeared in a back alley. Draco understood exactly why they were in Russia: the Russian magical government was known for its complete secrecy. By being brought there, their tracks, already muddled by their previous stops, would be utterly forgotten. He was dreading his immediate future, but not with the same terror he had been feeling at home.

 

“You’ll be fine, Dragon,” his mother whispered as if she could read his mind, smoothing down his hair. He leaned into her touch, then the arrival of the other half of their group startled him.

 

His fingers curled around a new length of rope, and they all vanished from Russian soil.

 

He finally lost his balance upon arrival and fell face first in uncut grass with an undignified squeak. Blaise, the traitor, started laughing, soon joined by Millicent who sounded slightly hysterical. He groaned and sat on his knees while Crowfeet gave a Stomach Soothing draught to a whimpering Astoria. Then he looked around.

 

They were on a small hill, surrounded by birch trees and spruce. The sky was a gorgeous deep blue and the temperature just warm enough to be pleasant. Down the slope of the hill stood a massive wooden structure built in what Draco assumed was traditional Norwegian style and bearing the name of “Tranquil Spire Hotel”. He noticed a few windows were broken. He almost sneered, before hearing waves nearby. When he rose to his feet, the view took his breath away.

 

The old hotel was standing in the middle of nowhere, on the shore of a fjord. There was a bannister near the edge of the cliff, so Draco assumed stairs led to a beach.

 

“As you can see, there’s nobody around, and we’ll make sure it stays that way,” Tonks claimed. “I was told you guys would perform protective rituals, so I’ll take the kids inside while you work,” she went on, now addressing the adults.

 

Draco exchanged a quick glance with Theo and Daphne. If an Auror didn’t stay around, it could only mean one thing: these rituals were old, dark magic, possibly blood-related, and illegal in several countries. They were from Dark-aligned families: their secret spells and traditions were not looked upon favourably in most circles. Even among their political allies, they were not spoken of. Everyone knew they had them, yet they barely ever used them.

 

“Mother?”

 

Narcissa gestured towards Tonks, allowing him to follow her. He nodded and joined his schoolmates down the hill.

 

“There’s a Muggle town about fifty kilometres from here,” the pink-haired Auror stated. “You’re not stuck here, but it’d be best not to go shopping alone at first. And yes, you guessed it, you’ll be  _Mugglifying_  yourself around here! It’d be best if you wore Muggle clothing. Because of the magic on your possessions, your trunks will be enlarged outside, and we’ll check each item before it’s brought in. This includes the kitten that Cousin Draco smuggled all the way from Britain.”

 

She barked a laugh at Blaise’s dismayed expression and Draco hoped he didn’t look like him now. Somehow, he doubted it.

 

They passed through the double doors after Tonks unlocked them, and they stepped into a vast reception area with comfortable-looking couches, wooden floor, and wood panelling. It was clean. Amelia Bones probably sent someone over to get the place ready.

 

“This side,” Tonks pointed at a door on their left, “hasn’t been accessed yet. Some of the windows are broken and there’s a lot of dust, so, for now, we’ll leave it be. This,” she continued, opening a heavy double door, “used to be a restaurant. We’ll have our meals here because it’d be best if you didn’t eat in your rooms.”

 

Draco eyed the room with approval. It wasn’t the expensive, marble-floored restaurant he was used to as a Malfoy or the Great Hall at Hogwarts, but it was homey. He decided he liked the wood theme.

 

Tonks showed them the kitchens, resulting in many pairs of raised eyebrows. Some, like Draco or Theo, had never even set foot in a kitchen before. Others, like Blaise and the Greengrass sisters, were used to magical kitchens. Only Millicent wasn’t fazed. Interesting. Draco hadn’t known she was so familiar with the Muggle world.

 

They passed through an empty reception hall with massive windows overlooking overgrown gardens and the fjord, and she gestured to a smaller building closer to the cliff. She told them that to make sure everything continued working as it should, they would only practice magic outside, or in there. Once they received their alternative wand, hey would obviously not be subjected to underage restrictions. Good, Draco could live with that.

 

“How come electricity is still running?” Millicent asked when they walked towards a wide stairway.

 

(Draco hid his confusion at the unknown word).

 

Tonks shrugged. “Confondus Charm on the right people. We also have hot water, and the whole heating system is ready for the winter.”

 

Hot water? Why would they not have any? Baffled, he didn’t voice his thoughts but knew, from his friends’ whispers, that they all wondered the same.

 

They bypassed the first and second floor, and the third delighted them: Draco hadn’t spared a thought for their sleeping arrangements until now, and when his cousin opened the first room and announced they would each have their own room and bathroom, the first real smile graced everyone’s features.

 

“They’re what’s called superior rooms,” she confessed, “so you have a gorgeous view, and the bathroom is huge. The rooms below aren’t cleaned, and I don’t think we’ll need them. They’re smaller. If you want to redecorate, turn some of them into a lounge, feel free.”

 

She explained that the left corridor would host their teachers, herself, and Crowfeet, while the right was theirs exclusively. She mentioned that more students might seek refuge here in the future, but Draco was barely listening anymore. Through the windows lining the corridor, he saw their parents standing in a circle, but he was too high to recognize their wand movements. He shrugged, and walked down the hall until he reached the last door. He opened it and fell in love.

 

Everything around him was made of light wood, cut quite simply. He had never seen furniture that looked so straight-forward without being cheap. He had a walk-in closet, a large bed, two shelves, a seating area, a table and a desk. He wondered what the black box on the biggest shelf was, but he guessed he would know soon enough.

 

His window took an entire wall and overlooked the sea, framed by birch trees. His bathroom was almost as big as the room itself, with a sliding door and a deep bathtub, next to a shower. The toilet was separated from the sink by a half-wall.

 

He hoped the kitten would enjoy the room as much as him. Curious, he lay on the bed, and couldn’t repress a contented sigh. This was the fluffiest, comfiest mattress ever. Even better than his admittedly outrageously expensive one at Malfoy Manor.

 

“Draco! Did you see the closet?” Blaise called, opening the door and letting himself in.

 

“Did you try the bed?” he replied before Theo joined them.

 

“The girls are plotting, and I think I like it here.”

 

Draco pushed himself up. He was glad to be there with them; they grew on him. Slytherins always looked cold to outsiders, but inside their common room at Hogwarts, they were a tight-knit group that Draco initially had trouble joining. He warmed up to most kids in his year when he realised they had no expectations, they just wanted to be friends with the real Draco - the one who slept with a stuffed dragon, who snorted when he laughed too much, and who always shared the sweets his mother sent him. The real Draco hid under sneers, jibes and bigotry. They all did.

 

Theo glanced outside. “I can’t wait for winter. Think of the snow!”

 

“It’ll be cold, and my nose will fall off,” Draco complained.

 

“It’s so pointy, you could afford to lose a small bit.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

There was a knock, and Millicent came in.

 

“I wanted to wait until you all freaked out in the dark but I’m too nice so, education time!”

 

Ignoring their protests, she taught them how to turn on the light, resulting in a fascinated Blaise, and a Draco who came too close to death before the muscular girl hit the back of his head and explained the hazards of electrocution.

 

“I have a list,” she gently intoned. “Tonks wants you guys to keep this somewhere.”

 

Draco accepted his and started reading the aptly titled “Do’s and Don’ts of a Muggle Home”. This went from “turn off the lights when you leave” to “electricity and water are a death sentence”, and the boy was now intimidated by his surroundings. He promised himself to place the list somewhere obvious, as soon as he found something to stick it to the wall. What did Muggles use?

 

“Well, I’m certainly not touching anything with wet hands, ever,” Blaise muttered. “Where is Tonks anyway?”

 

“Downstairs, she’s making a list of rules. She likes lists.”

 

“Tori's still feeling a bit sick,” Daphne informed them from the corridor. “Shall we go?”

 

Unwilling to leave his amazing bed, Draco rolled over, but Theo and Millicent dragged him out. They joined their parents in the dining hall, where a white kitten was playing with the hem of Narcissa’s robes.

 

“I found him in your trunk, Dragon,” she stated, an eyebrow arching slightly.

 

“I’m keeping him.”

 

“Muggle pet care stuff,” Tonks wrote something down on a strange type of parchment, with the weirdest quill Draco had ever seen.

 

“Shopping list,” Isabella Zabini piped. “Darlings, we opened your trunks and brought you everything that wouldn’t interfere with your new home.”

 

“And I need your own lists,” Tonks looked up from her current work.

 

“All the lists!” Millicent sniggered just as Astoria joined them, still a bit sickly.

 

Draco took a quill - Tonks called it a pen - and a piece of lined paper, and after figuring out there was no ink to dip the pen in, he started with the essentials. His list ended with decorations for his room. Being mindful of his money was new to him: according to Narcissa, each of their trust vaults had been locked so only themselves would be able to use them. The adults transferred Galleons from their personal vaults, to avoid arousing suspicions by tapping into the familial fortune. While the amount of money was nothing to laugh at, it might be all they’d have for their time in Norway. Anything could happen. A certain sum had been withdrawn to make sure they wouldn’t rely fully on Gringotts: this gold was stored in a Muggle bank.

 

They were then given a rough draft of a summer schedule, with meal times and chores, and finally, the teenagers were gathered in their parents’ arms, and led to a more private corner of the hotel.

 

Draco focused on his mother’s grey eyes, on her wistful smile, and let her embrace him and whisper her love for him in his ear. He felt like he was a little kid, and there was an unmistakable tightness in his throat. He buried his face in the crook of her neck.


	4. Microwave and Ministry

Muggles, Draco realised, were insane. There was a white box in the kitchen that would supposedly grant him instant-food. The ad on the strange device these people called “television” had shown a glorious, shiny potato gratin appearing inside such a box, turning on itself for a second or two, then being served to a happy family. So, braving the imposing industrial kitchen all by himself, he imitated the woman in the ad: he wished for a meal.

 

Nothing happened. Frowning, he opened the box (“microwave”, it said at the bottom), checked the inside, closed it again, and fiddled with the knobs. It suddenly turned on with an unholy noise and Draco shrieked a little (a lot). But still, no food.

 

Perhaps he needed to put a plate inside, then. He did so, but only found a bowl near the sink.

 

The next few moments made him realise something was definitely missing from Tonks’ list of deadly hazards: a microwave acted exactly like Seamus Finnegan’s potion assignments. Sparks flew everywhere. He ducked, then flattened himself on the floor and crawled away as fast as he could. An acrid odour burnt his nostrils, then the light vanished, replaced by a green glowing EXIT sign above the door, and a wailing not unlike a mermaid’s screeching made his entire body go stiff. He pressed his hands against his ears, jumped to his feet, and ran out. Not quick enough though, because just before he reached his destination, water poured from the ceiling.

 

This was why Draco decided that metallic bowls - or metallic anything, really - should be banned from Muggle dwellings.

 

He mopped the floor for the first time that day.

 

Tonks added “microwave” to her shopping list and Apparated to the nearby town. She came back with everything the yet unnamed kitten would need, but also Muggle clothing for everyone, food to fill the massive pantry and fridge, repair tools, lightbulbs, and of course tea. She then banned Draco from the kitchen for the time being and enlisted Millicent’s help for their meal once the room was back to its original condition. The previous few days had been too exhausting to cook so they each had sandwiches, soup and snacks.

 

Draco’s ears were now ringing.

 

Blaise suggested they name the kitten “Microwave” and Draco kicked him in the shin. Feeling humiliated, he excused himself and walked outside.

 

The breeze and the scent of the sea calmed him down. He observed his surroundings, walking towards the cliff then leaning on the wooden railing protecting him from a fall. He looked at the water below. It was so calm it seemed almost oily under the sun. As the wind messed with his hair (still wet from the kitchen disaster), he wondered about his mother, about Hogwarts, about the Dark Lord. He missed his wand already.

 

Hearing footsteps, he glanced behind him. Theo joined him, keeping a small distance between them.

 

“How’s Astoria?” Draco queried.

 

He held no particular affection for her, but his father had been talking with Nathan Greengrass about a possible marriage contract. Hopefully, the current situation would bury this idea far, far below Lucius’ other concerns and projects. Not only was Astoria still a child in Draco’s eyes, being younger than him by two years, but she also lacked a few attributes he required in a life partner. He had recently discovered his interest in men and wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. Before being spirited away to Norway, living a life of lies sounded like his only option. He needed an heir for the Malfoy name. He was supposed to marry a witch and keep his reputation pristine. But now? Lucius would most likely disown him. Or end up in Azkaban and ruin their name forever, assuming the Dark Lord didn’t win the war. There was no more reason to repress his true self, wasn’t there?

 

“She’s fine,” came Theo’s answer, startling Draco who was lost in thoughts. “She might not be for long. Millie cooked, and the food looks like she barfed in the pan. Your cousin is a walking disaster and dropped the spaghetti on the floor.”

 

Shuddering, Draco vowed not to eat anything their friend prepared, but did that mean his diet would consist of sandwiches from now on?

 

“I did my summer assignments,” he prattled on. Draco enjoyed Theo’s company - they had been friends since their nappy’s days thanks to Narcissa’s status as Theo's godmother - but he didn’t want to talk right now.

 

“Why? We’re not going back to Hogwarts for a while.”

 

“Felt good to do something normal,” the brown-haired boy replied with a shrug. “Think about it. Crowfeet is preparing real food, by the way. I’ll eat with you.”

 

Theo left and Draco’s stomach complained loudly. By the time he headed back inside the hotel, he had forgotten why he ventured outside in the first place. The Malfoy heir was impulsive, quick to anger, almost a Gryffindor sometimes, and he deflated just as quickly if someone or something distracted him from the cause of his rising temper. If he emulated his mother, perhaps he could fight these unwelcome traits. He had, after all, gotten them from his father.

 

 

***

 

 

After Draco’s adventure with the microwave, and a relatively tasty dinner, Millicent declared she would no longer cook anything since her previous efforts ended up in the trash bin. Intimidated by the Muggle stove, nobody volunteered, and Crowfeet found himself with “cooking” on his short list of daily activities.

 

They decided to spend the rest of the evening in their future school, the building where they could practice magic. It was much smaller than the hotel itself and composed almost exclusively of conference rooms. Draco closed his eyes as the first wave of magic hit him. For someone who had until now always been surrounded by ambient spells and magical auras, it felt like coming home. The building was bursting with enchantments. Stepping through the protective ward that prevented magic from leaking made each teenager shiver.

 

Tonks and Crowfeet had both worked on the building so far and it wasn’t ready to host classes yet. The Slytherins would help with the clean-up and necessary transfigurations as soon as they received their temporary wands but today, they were only visiting. One of the rooms had been turned into an infirmary, with beds taken from the hotel and decor that reminded them of Madam Pomfrey’s workspace. There was a basement with three small fallout shelters (what this was, they had no idea). One of these would be their potions classroom, the other was already turned into a private lab: Tonks and Crowfeet would both stock the infirmary until they could find a potions teacher.

 

On the second floor, Draco found his own heavenly space: a library. Almost giddy, he perused the books on the shelves, barely listening to Tonks who explained why this room was the only one they had already finished. Every book had been brought in from Wizarding Britain in resized trunks that the adults took with them. The collection had potential already.

 

“Some of these were donated by your parents, and I even managed to bring my own collection on healing,” Crowfeet gloated.

 

Draco’s fingers trailed over a series of novels. Not just school texts then.

 

“What happens if we can’t go back home after NEWTs?” Daphne inquired, bringing everyone’s attention to her.

 

Millicent sat on a comfortable couch with a tome on magical sea creatures, soon joined by Blaise who absently played with his coarse hair. They both looked at Astoria’s sister in silence.

 

Exchanging a glance with Crowfeet, Tonks took the time to look at everyone in the room.

 

“We’re all hoping You-Know-Who will be gone much sooner than that. Still, we’ve decided to give you the best chance at a future. Trust me, you’ll like what we have in store.”

 

“At Lord Greengrass’ suggestion,” Crowfeet went on, curious stares shifting to him, “We’ll offer more subjects than the Hogwarts curriculum contains.”

 

Excited whispers broke out and with an interested gleam in his grey eyes, Draco asked if they would cover the international list of NEWTs instead. To make sure every witch and wizard around the world had access to the same exams should they wish to pass them, the International Confederation of Wizards organized additional tests that did not require anything but self-study. This allowed home-schooled kids to earn their qualification and gave access to Masteries for branches of magic not covered by standard institutions. A Hogwarts student could thus earn a NEWT in Alchemy or Dark Arts, among numerous other options. It wasn’t a popular endeavour: most Purebloods wanted their NEWTs to have a specific school seal, due either to prestige or because they only trusted the curriculum their school of choice offered. Lucius Malfoy scorned at these “leftovers NEWTs”, which was why he had initially insisted for a Durmstrang education for Draco. In his mind, going through Hogwarts and then earning a NEWT in Dark Arts on his own was beneath his status. A Malfoy went to Hogwarts or Durmstrang, nothing else, even if it meant sacrificing knowledge.

 

But there was so much magic to discover, why should they limit themselves?

 

“How’s that going to work?” Blaise crossed his arms. “If we get too many people here, we’re at risk. You can’t hire thirty teachers either. Who would pay them?”

 

“Let Madam Bones deal with this. She has contacts, she knows what she’s doing,” Tonks reassured him.

 

“Self-study and Fidelius Charm, remember?” Millicent added.

 

The hotel wasn’t the only thing under Fidelius: their very presence and activities within the area were covered with more protective charms than they could count, layered between whatever blood ritual their parents had done. Leaving, however, even if it was just an outing to the town, would make them vulnerable as long as they were outside the wards.

 

“Obviously we expect you to tutor each other. I’m here if healing interests you,” Crowfeet offered.

 

“Why should we study more subjects before we even pass our OWLs?”

 

“Merlin’s pants, Blaise, shut up!” Daphne exhaled loudly.

 

“Nobody’s forcing you,” Theo quipped, then started whispering with Astoria. Both had a thirst for knowledge equal to Draco’s.

 

In the end, a properly chastised Blaise followed Theo’s lead and worked on his summer assignments. Draco drowned into a large book of uncommon spells, soon joined by Daphne who moved close to him and read quietly behind his shoulder.

 

None of them noticed when Crowfeet and Tonks left, and they were only roused from their studies when a chime let them know it was time for bed.

 

Keeping themselves busy helped with their fears. They were worried about their parents, their friends and their future, but had yet to lose sleep over it. It wouldn’t last. Draco was especially scared of the moment his father would find out what they had done.

 

 

***

 

 

_London, Ministry of Magic_

 

Someone’s hand gripped his shoulder, but he couldn’t move. Every sound was reduced to a buzz. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t see: his vision was blurry. His body felt like cotton; like he wouldn’t feel pain if he was hit by a cutting curse. He was numb.

 

He thought he heard his name. It sounded like he imagined it, so he didn’t pay attention. Only then did he discover he couldn’t breathe.

 

“-ry! Harry!”

 

The voice was back, but wasn’t it all in his head? Was he asleep?

 

He gave a full-body shiver and collapsed. His senses woke up on their own and he was aware of too many things at the same time. The cold stone floor under his knees. The light, too bright, flickering on the wall. Too much noise, too many people, too much pain. His hands shook and his cheeks itched where his tears were now falling freely. The grip on his shoulder faltered and someone hoisted him back to his feet. He saw red hair.

 

“Mister Weasley?” he rasped, focusing on a freckled face that was too pale.

 

“Come on lad, let’s get you home.”

 

The events of the past hour assaulted his memories. He wanted to forget them. Their weight crushed him. He imagined the headlines in the Daily Prophet. Perhaps they would even release a special edition for the evening.

 

He had been expelled from Hogwarts. Even Dumbledore hadn’t been able to stop them when they snapped his wand while the woman in the pink cardigan smirked gleefully.

 

His trial had been a sham from the start. Changing the time at the last minute, conveniently forgetting to inform him, then dismissing his defence as pure lies because Dementors would never be far from Azkaban and what else will this unhinged boy lie about next… they had known the outcome before he even stepped foot into the courtroom. They didn’t consider Arabella Figgs’ testimony valid because she was a squib.

 

Harry still had trouble breathing when Mister Weasley led him to the elevator.

 

“Mister Weasley, Mister Potter, a moment if you please,” a woman interrupted, and they turned around.

 

Harry recognized the only person who didn’t sneer at him during his hearing, but it hurt to look at her. She approached them, her expression neutral.

 

“My name is Amelia Bones, Mister Potter, and I am the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I would like to speak with you in my office.”

 

Harry looked at Mister Weasley who gave him an encouraging, if slightly wobbly smile, and he nodded. They both followed Madam Bones inside the elevator, then to her office as quickly as possible. Harry ducked to avoid a flying memo and Mister Weasley pushed him gently forward.

 

The teenager found himself alone with the woman when the door closed. She told him to sit and offered him a cup of tea that he kept between his fingers to warm them up. Since his wand had been snapped, he thought his body temperature had dropped.

 

“I cannot tell you how sorry I am, Mister Potter,” she started with a small sigh, taking a seat herself. She reminded him of Professor McGonagall. “Please know that, in any other circumstances, this wouldn’t have happened. At the very least, I wouldn’t have let them take your wand.”

 

“Why, then?” He hated the weakness in his voice.

 

“Because I believe you, and I cannot attract attention if I openly support you.”

 

His eyes fell on the teacup. He had nothing to say.

 

“The reason you’re here is that I fear what the next step will be for you. As you currently reside in the Muggle world, I believe the Minister will seek to have you Obliviated.”

 

He froze in horror and sharply raised his head, his previously slumped shoulders now ramrod straight, the tears on his cheeks drying.

 

“I might not have been able to help during your hearing, but I certainly will not let this happen. There’s a place where you can live and still use magic until it’s safe to come back here.”

 

Some tension left his body and his heartbeat sped up.

 

“You would let me use magic outside of school?” he gasped.

 

“Unofficially.”

 

“But the trace?”

 

“Was on your wand. Mister Potter, I can't discuss anything myself, but if you are interested, you should talk to Nymphadora Tonks as soon as possible. Do you know of her?”

 

He thought about his arrival at 12, Grimmauld Place, and his discovery of the Black family tapestry. Sirius had told him about his cousin Andromeda and her family and had said that Nymphadora was supposed to be here for Order meetings but had been called away on a mission out of the country. He acquiesced slowly.

 

“Good. Don’t use the Floo network or an owl. I’ll contact her myself. Don’t despair; you’re not alone, and this is only temporary.”

 

The tea soothed his nerves and by the time he left the Ministry with Mister Weasley, he felt slightly better. As much as he wanted to run to his room, lock the door, and cry himself to sleep, he steeled himself when he exited the Floo and made a beeline for Sirius.

 

He thanked whoever had tasked his friends with the housekeeping because he wasn’t sure he could stand their questions right now. They meant well but Hermione rarely understood him when he just wanted to be left alone.

 

Sirius’ smile was watery. They hugged, neither of them wanting to let go, and Harry had to bite his lips to keep from dissolving into sobs. Dumbledore already informed them, then. Good. Harry wasn’t feeling up to reviving his trial.

 

The ex-convict, still clutching at Harry’s clothes, led him to the library and locked the door behind them. He cast a _Muffliato_ : a certain pair of twins might use Extendable Ears and neither Sirius nor Harry was in the mood for it.

 

They sat on a couch and didn’t talk for a few long minutes. Sirius’ hand on his back comforted him. For as long as he could remember, this was the first time that someone held him for more than a brief hug. It felt nice. A few quiet moments passed before he talked about his meeting with Amelia. He didn’t dare hope, but the despair and loss he had been plagued with at the Ministry were slowly receding. He would get through this. Fudge, that horrible woman in the pink cardigan, Skeeter, all those who believed him mad… they wouldn’t bring him down. He hugged Sirius tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little note: in this story, Sirius is less prone to crazy schemes because what happened in this chapter is a wake-up call. Harry needs him. Sirius knows what it's like to be betrayed by the Ministry and realises he actually has to act like an adult.


	5. Leaving 12, Grimmauld Place

It took two days before Tonks could come back to England. As Secret Keeper, she wanted to talk to Harry alone but Sirius intervened: if Harry left the country, Sirius would go with him no matter what Dumbledore said. They had very little time to decide: she needed to go back today, and she wanted to take them with her.

 

Harry listened with rapt attention as she described the Tranquil Spire Hotel. He had never been on vacation anywhere and the place seemed amazing. He could go to the sea! There would be no _Daily Prophet_ , no Voldemort, no Dursleys. And he could be with Sirius! He wouldn’t even need to stay in his Animagus form: the numerous spells on the hotel grounds would prevent anyone but Tonks from speaking about what went on inside and who was there.

 

Which raised the question of who exactly lived within these walls. He was not expecting the answer and he could only groan.

 

Nott, Zabini, Bulstrode and Greengrass were all alright in his book. He didn’t know them. They ignored him, he ignored them. Sure, they probably wore _Potter Stinks_ badges this past year, but so did many Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and even a few Gryffindors. Malfoy, however…

 

Knowing that he had fled to avoid being Marked helped - after the initial disbelief. That someone who rejoiced in the threat to Muggleborns in their Second Year would refuse to join Voldemort was just confusing.

 

“Draco didn’t know any better,” Tonks explained. “That doesn’t excuse what he did, but Slytherins have a reputation to maintain. I’m sure Sirius can tell you what happens if you don’t follow your parents’ footsteps in our family: I doubt the Malfoys are any different.”

 

“But Sirius rebelled,” Harry countered, proud of his godfather who looked unusually grave.

 

“Not everyone can,” the man interrupted softly. “I’d say he just took some more time to realise it. If I had been Sorted into Slytherin, perhaps things would have been different for me. Until Hogwarts, I still spouted the occasional anti-Muggle crap. Didn’t know any better.”

 

“You- but- why?” Harry stammered. He couldn’t believe it, but he admitted he didn’t really know him.

 

“If you are isolated from the moment you’re born, only ever meet people who believe an entire part of the population is sub-human - a part you’ve never been exposed to, and are encouraged to think the same, can you get out of the mindset on your own?” the man asked, sounding so mature that Tonks raised an eyebrow and stared at him. “And if you do come to your senses somehow, can you turn your back on everything you know, on your family, especially if you don’t have any friend to help you? I had your father, Moony, and even the rat. I had my House. Look at my brother: he was a sweet kid, I adored him, and he loved me, but he was a Slytherin and became a Death Eater. Maybe it would have been different if I hadn’t been an asshole. Or if I didn’t leave him alone when I ran away. I don’t know Malfoy, but I guess it was all an act.”

 

“Seems like it,” Tonks confirmed. “At least recently. He’s barely fifteen. Can you tell me you never made mistakes yourself?”

 

Harry winced discreetly. Their words hit home. He did, after all, judge an entire House because of Ron, whom he had just met, and because of Voldemort. Malfoy had acted like an arrogant idiot, sure, but if Harry had decided to shake his hand on the train, he was quite sure the situation would have been reversed. Ron was extremely prejudiced in his own way; Harry just ignored it because it was easier, because he agreed with some of his views - and perhaps because at the time, he clung desperately to his first friend. But what about their squib relative? The one the Weasleys were so ashamed of? Not everything was black and white.

 

At the back of his mind, a little voice that sounded suspiciously like the Sorting Hat told him he was a Slytherin himself. Shunned by the other Houses, a Slytherin only had other Slytherins to turn to. When he thought about their first year and the disappointment on their faces when Professor Dumbledore granted just enough points to Gryffindor to make them win the House Cup, his ears burnt in shame.

 

He sighed and looked at his godfather. They had spent almost every moment of the past forty-eight hours together because Harry needed him. His friends didn’t really understand how he felt, and Ron’s usual lack of tact got on his nerves at the moment. He was still bitter about them being at Grimmauld while he was stuck at the Dursleys without any news from anyone.

 

Tonks was curious about what Sirius had done with the childish, impulsive idiot she had seen recently, and Sirius mentioned that there was a time and a place to act foolishly and spout ridiculous notions, and this was not it. Harry wished Ron knew that.

 

“What do we tell Dumbledore?” Sirius continued.

 

“Leave it to someone else. I’m afraid he’ll insist on keeping Harry here with you.”

 

“He means well.”

 

 _He also meant well when he left me with the Dursleys_ , Harry thought with a grimace.

 

They agreed not to disclose any information to the Headmaster or to the Weasleys and Hermione for now. Harry understood the need for absolute secrecy; he would rather face Voldemort again than be Obliviated.

 

“Go pack your things, I’ll be right behind you,” Sirius encouraged with a tiny smile and Harry left him with Tonks.

 

He entered the room he shared with Ron, looked around, and started gathering the clothes he left on the floor in the morning. He opened his trunk, touched the shimmering fabric of his Invisibility Cloak and hesitated over the Marauder’s Map. He wouldn’t need it but he hated the thought of being parted from it. However, what if his friends faced a danger they could have avoided if they had it with them? He chewed on his lower lip, unsure, before taking a step forward and placing the map on Ron’s bed. After losing his wand, it almost didn’t hurt. He guessed he still felt a bit numb. Hogwarts and the Wizarding World meant so much to him. They were his escape from the cupboard, or from the room with the bars on the window. He didn’t remember ever being happy before visiting Diagon Alley for the first time, and now he had to leave it behind? He focused on rearranging his few possessions inside his trunk to clear his head.

 

He could hear Molly Weasley scolding the twins and Ginny complaining about dust and grime. He smiled wistfully and greeted Ron and Hermione when they came stomping inside the room.

 

They were bickering about Doxys and curtains and Merlin knew what else, so Harry ignored them until they noticed his presence. It didn’t take long, and Hermione elbowed the redhead.

 

“Mate,” Ron grabbed the map, “what’s going on?”

 

“I-” Harry took a deep breath, “I’m leaving. Now. I thought you might need the map while I’m gone.”

 

Hermione gasped and took his hands. “Oh, Harry, no!”

 

“Why don’t you just stay here?” Ron looked bewildered.

 

“Ron, he would be a prisoner like Sirius! And it’s too dangerous. But where will you go?”

 

“I don’t know. Tonks is taking me. You can’t tell anyone!”

 

“Dumbledore wouldn’t let you leave, is that it?” Hermione guessed with a frown on her face, surprising Harry who thought, out of everyone he knew, that she would be the first one to trust the Headmaster.

 

He nodded slowly, noticing that Ron still had trouble understanding his reasons but feeling relieved and glad to have misjudged the brown-haired girl.

 

“But what about Quidditch?” Ron blurted.

 

Harry and Hermione stifled a laugh. Trust Ron for thinking about unimportant details.

 

 

***

 

 

When the Portkey took Sirius, Harry and Tonks away, the boy could still hear Hermione’s voice, muffled because she was hiding his face in his neck, nagging him to ensure he would write every day. He had been informed this wouldn’t be possible, at least at first.

 

The hardest part about leaving had been avoiding Molly and Arthur. Sirius left a letter for Dumbledore to let him know they were fine and would be in touch. By the time the old wizard read it, they would be impossible to find.

 

Sirius didn’t leave empty-handed: on Tonks’ recommendation and with Kreacher’s help, he had emptied the Black library and had spell-locked specific rooms, his brother’s and his father’s office included. The books were stored in two trunks spelled with a Featherlight Charm, a Resizing Charm, and an Extension Charm. The House Elf had gladly helped, keeping his muttered insults to a minimum while they worked. Sirius didn’t care about what happened to his house when he was there, but for some reason, he refused to let Molly rummage through his family’s belongings if he couldn’t be certain that she wouldn’t accidentally throw away something useful. It was honestly thanks to Harry that he came to this realisation. The teen had told him he thought letting a stranger go through his family’s things was a bit weird, and wasn’t Sirius just acting out against his upbringing instead of simply keeping his emotions in check?

 

So, with their departure, the Weasleys would still be able to live at Grimmauld Place until it was safe to go back to the Burrow, but there would be nothing but furniture left for them to touch.

 

Upon arriving in Russia for the second-to-last stop on their journey, Sirius insisted to visit Gringotts. Tonks applied a glamour to his and Harry’s face and morphed her own appearance into an old woman. They then left the back alley the Portkey dumped them into.

 

St. Petersburg’s wizarding area looked more like Hogsmeade than Diagon Alley, with a uniform but charming style for nearly every building. Harry stared at the displays around him in astonishment: here, shops specializing in the Dark Arts didn’t need to hide in a sinister street. It made him wonder about censorship, and he promised himself to research magic as a whole on his own. There were several cafés and restaurants offering more than one type of cuisine, and almost no one wore Muggle clothing. Tonks told him that Russian Muggleborns were required to take lessons on Wizarding Culture as soon as they entered their new world. Harry wished he had had this opportunity. Who knew how many blunders he made because he hadn’t been told anything about customs and traditions? He still didn’t know about them today.

 

He slowed down in front of a clothing shop, interested in robes he hadn’t seen before. He was especially intrigued by a black duelling outfit.

 

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” Sirius smiled. “How about buying a few things while we’re here? I have so many years of presents to catch up on.”

 

Harry protested weakly, mentioning the Firebolt that was currently in his resized trunk deep in his pocket, but Sirius didn’t listen and hurried to the bank. Amused, Tonks let them know she would meet them in an hour as she had someone to see nearby.

 

Sirius spoke Gobbledegook. Harry’s eyes widened at this revelation. He was asked to join him in another room to discuss the Potter accounts, as Gringotts recognized Sirius as Harry’s guardian. He had never been convicted, thus the Goblins still did business with him and didn’t care if he was granted access to Harry’s vaults. The plural, once translated, took the teenager aback. Nobody ever told him he had just as much money as Malfoy!

 

Then Sirius recognized him as the Black Heir when he allowed him to stay for the Black vaults’ affairs, and Harry felt a nice warmth envelop him. After visiting the vaults, where Sirius grabbed every single wand that had belonged to his family members, they walked a little closer to each other in silence.

 

They stopped at the clothing store first, where Sirius ordered an entire wardrobe for both of them and let Harry choose fabrics, colours and cuts. Their measurements were taken, and they were informed they could come back for their order in two hours (four initially, until Sirius paid extra).

 

Most people around them spoke at least a bit of English, but they made Harry want to learn another language. Sirius told him about the Translation Charm when they visited the bookshop, which had almost no book in English. His godfather used the spell on the directory itself. One section caught Harry’s eye: wandlore.

 

 _What Your Wand Says About You, Rare Cores and Their Application, An Essay on Dual Wielding, The Staff Bearer, Wandless Not Useless_ … Harry’s interest grew. Perhaps it was due to the loss of his own wand, but he wanted to know more. He had never really thought about Ollivander’s craft until now. What if… what if he could build a new wand for himself? Sirius didn’t comment, only watched curiously when he bought each tome on wandcrafting.

 

Remembering Tonks’ explanation about his schooling at the hotel, he asked his godfather about dropping a few subjects.

 

“You could take Runes,” the man suggested. “I brought my books and I could teach you.” He then started enumerating Hogwarts’ courses. “Divination is crap. Astronomy… pick up a Muggle book about it instead, forget about the Wizarding version. They’re completely behind. You certainly don’t need Muggle Studies, and you’d be better off replacing Care with something like Biology and merge Ghoul Studies with it. Your mother had very strong opinions about it. Charms and Transfiguration are more than useful. DADA… I think I’ll teach you the Auror curriculum instead. Potions and Herbology should never have been separated. History, as it’s taught by Binns, is a waste of time, Arithmancy is related to Divination so I’m not sure you’d enjoy it. Alchemy hasn’t been offered in years… I’m missing a few, but you get it. Don’t limit yourself. If your biggest wish it to become, say, a Magizoologist, when you’ll have to pass your exams in specific subjects, but if you don’t know what you want yet, study whatever you like.”

 

Harry would need to check the ICW NEWTs list and the different Masteries and careers available for a wizard. He knew next to nothing about his own world and it needed to change. His future had also always been clouded by Voldemort and he had never taken the time to think about it.

 

He didn’t want to be a Magizoologist, that was for sure. Ron talked about becoming an Auror but the idea of working for the Ministry disgusted him right now.   

 

They bought treats for Hedwig, who flew ahead of them to a Wizarding post office in Norway. Tonks had done the necessary checks to ensure she wasn’t already tracked for some reason. Before taking the new Portkey, they shared one of the best meals of Harry’s life at a local restaurant. Harry enjoyed himself enough to forget to feel sorry for himself.

 

They met up with Tonks and her local contact, an old man with long white hair who introduced himself as Vitaly Gnedykh, who taught some of the darkest courses at Durmstrang before Igor Karkaroff became Headmaster. Both Sirius and Harry eyed him warily.

 

“Dark Arts need to be understood and studied,” he said before any of them could comment. “It doesn’t mean I approve of their uses on other human beings. Your Ministry wants them to disappear entirely. This means that anyone with an interest in them studies them on their own: this is when they’re at their most dangerous. Unsupervised training, without lessons on ethics to counterbalance them, leads to disaster. You can only fully defend yourself against them if you know them. That’s my view.”

 

He had a Russian accent, but it was barely noticeable.

 

“Will you teach us, then?” Harry blurted.

 

He glanced at Sirius. “Those who want to learn are welcome. I’m under oath, and I already know who both of you are. I was quite surprised. Primarily, I’ll be your Potion teacher.”

 

At least it wasn’t Snape. Maybe he would even enjoy Potions now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note about the vaults at Gringotts: in my head, you can access a vault’s contents from any Gringotts branch in the world. I imagine it as a magically shared space. Otherwise Sirius would only have been able to withdraw money, not wands.


	6. Truce

It was mid-afternoon and Draco, Daphne and Theo had just finished their Ancient Runes essay. They were in the garden, playing a Muggle game called Cluedo.

 

Draco’s willingness to embrace his new life surprised everyone around him. His friends were expecting endless complaints - he had none so far. They would come, no doubt about it, but the list of chores was more likely to attract his ire than something purely Muggle. He really wasn’t looking forward to doing the laundry. What if he touched Blaise’s underwear by accident? Not to mention the washing machine itself. He had ventured into the basement and knew what they looked like, so he imagined many disastrous scenarios akin to his microwave mistake.

 

Blaise spent most of his time lazing about. Astoria was often the first to suggest a game after Tonks bought so many of them, but at the moment she was at the beach with Millicent. She didn’t appreciate Cluedo as much as the others, preferring card games. Their situation could have been much worse.

 

Of course, Blaise had to ruin it all. He opened the glass door, snickered, and with a high-pitched voice, called Draco over.

 

“Before you yell at me, I have a very good reason to interrupt your fascinating foray into Muggle board games.”

 

The blond was sceptical until he saw who was standing a few steps away from them.

 

Potter. Why. How. Couldn’t he ever get a break? A sneer found its way onto his lips but vanished as soon as he recognized the man next to his nemesis. His mass-murderer cousin was smirking at him.

 

Now expressionless, he listened to Tonks when she introduced them all (except Millicent and Astoria). He gave a short nod of acknowledgement to both Black and the teacher from Durmstrang, then fought against every instinct that screamed at him to go hide in his room and process his anger at Potter’s presence. He managed to excuse himself, turn around, and go back to his game, to Blaise’s amazement.

 

Nobody was playing though, and the silence stretched between them all. Then, Theo stood up, walked up to Potter, and held out his hand. Draco barely restrained a gasp. The childish part of himself burnt in vicious jealousy when Potter returned the gesture, shook Theo’s hand, and told him to call him Harry. The rational part of his brain however studied Potter’s demeanour and concluded that perhaps the Golden Boy wasn’t as anti-Slytherin as he thought.

 

Blaise was next on first-name basis and Daphne forwent her upbringing and status to wave at him with a bright smile. Draco’s jaw tightened. He glared at the board for a moment, looked back up, and almost fell from his chair at Potter’s proximity. He could have sworn the prat was trying not to laugh.

 

“Malfoy.”

 

“Potter.” He hated sounding unsure.

 

“Truce?”

 

An eternity passed in silence, nobody moved. This felt almost like a more serious decision than fleeing Britain, the destruction of the last border between ignorant, prejudiced Draco and the person he wanted to be. Acting before losing his nerve, he grabbed Potter’s hand.

 

“Truce.”

 

“That’s so beautiful, you’re making me cry.” This was Black. So, Black was another Blaise. Great.

 

There was more to the story than “he’s innocent and you’re safe”, and Draco intended to find out. Now though, he just needed Potter to leave the garden and allow him a few hours of rest before he could no longer avoid reality: that he would actually live with the Saviour of the Wizarding World.

 

He winced internally. They were on the same side now. Merlin.

 

 

***

 

 

Potter’s room was the one facing Draco’s. Theo was acting like a complete Hufflepuff and discarded his reserved personality to be friendlier with him. And Potter’s hair was just as irritating as always.

 

Draco’s world was crumbling. He was eating fragrant, perfectly cooked coq au vin, and each bite made him want to swoon. It was just as good as what he was used to at home. And Potter cooked it.

 

He refused to tell them how he learned. It probably wasn’t a good story, if Black’s dark gaze was anything to go by, but he agreed to prepare their meals instead of doing other chores. Theo showed an interest in learning from him and Draco’s eye twitched. Was he hallucinating or was the other Slytherin _flirting_?

 

Theo was straight, wasn’t he? He didn’t intend to stick around to find out. As soon as his plate was empty, he took it back to the kitchen, washed it, and headed to his room, where he cuddled the kitten. His name was Perseus. Astoria chose it and Draco approved. The little guy was curious, fearless, and affectionate. He followed Draco around, as if he remembered that the boy had saved him. He probably did. Cats were smart.

 

There was a knock at the door. Draco didn’t move from his bed, too busy scratching Perseus’ neck. Calmly, he allowed his visitor entrance, and almost rolled his eyes at the sight of Black. He stood up, brushed cat hair from his shirt, and gave a small bow. Black was the Head of his mother’s House after all.

 

“Cousin,” Black said, casually leaning against the nearest wall. “Perfect, that’s done, never bow to me again!” He then _dared_ to ruffle Draco’s _hair_ , of all things! “Don’t be so stuffy.”

 

“My apologies.”

 

He would _not_ act like a uncouth child. He wouldn’t. No. Black wouldn’t make it easy if he insisted on behaving without the manners he was taught, but Draco would keep up appearances.

 

Or perhaps not. Black dropped a box on the desk and opened it. Wands. Black would thus be known to Draco as the saviour of his sanity. He forgave him instantly for messing with his hair.

 

“They belonged to our family.”

 

Draco nodded and reverently admired them. Wands weren’t a problem for electronics. There was no interference if no spell was cast, not even if the wand acted up, so Draco could find one that suited him without fearing a power outage or worse.

 

“Find one that suits. Harry and the girls already found theirs. They won’t work as well but…”

 

Draco bit his lip and nodded. “It’ll be enough for now.”

 

Black gently placed each wand side by side on the desk and stepped back. Draco’s hand hovered above them, slowly making his way through them until he felt a pull.

 

Two wands reacted to his presence, one too faint to bother testing, the other almost as strongly as his own wand. Relief washed over him, and he smiled.

 

The wand was made of unvarnished wood. Curious, he looked at his cousin, who took an old, wrinkled parchment out of the box. He held it out to Draco and encouraged him to touch it with his new possession. Immediately, a short text in slanted script appeared, informing them of the previous owner’s identity and wand properties. Black looked slightly disgusted; this was blood magic. It was well-known that the Black Family used their blood to bind their possessions and ward them against thieves. The ritual allowed them to prove ownership of their belongings by placing them against an enchanted surface.

 

This wand had belonged to Licorus Black, who died in 1872. Yew and Dragon Heartstrings. It would do.

 

 

***

 

 

Over the next few days, Tonks left Norway twice and came back with two more students. Susan Bones, sent away by her aunt, and Terence Higgs, a Seventh Year Slytherin who played reserve-seeker after losing his spot to Draco three years prior. With him around, Harry proposed their first Quidditch game, even if they had to drag Blaise outside and didn’t have enough people for two teams. Flying put everyone in a good mood, and Harry even laughed at a snide remark Draco made.

 

They didn’t really interact with each other. They nodded when they met in the morning, participated in discussions if everyone was involved, without addressing each other directly, so this was new.

 

Draco was a good player when he didn’t have a team of cheaters behind him.

 

Harry showed his Gryffindor side once more when he took him aside in the evening to ask about his food preferences. Draco joined him in the kitchen to watch him cook, and even offered to prepare the ingredients. This part at least was very much like Potions and didn’t bother him. Theo, who for some reason was always lurking there when food was on the stove, made fun of him for dicing carrots too carefully. Harry interrupted him to say that cutting vegetables this way would ensure they cooked evenly, so Draco was on the right track.

 

The blond boy preened.

 

From then on, he helped whenever he wasn’t busy with another chore. Theo was a quick learner and started making their lunch to give Harry a break sometimes. They were falling into an easy rhythm and reassigned their tasks and chores as they went.

 

Blaise would from then on do their personal laundry once a week. Harry cooked breakfast and dinner, assisted sometimes by Draco, Millicent or Susan. Theo volunteered for every lunch. Terence and Daphne vacuumed the clean parts of the hotel once a week, and Blaise and Astoria mopped. Everyone took care of their own rooms, and they all washed the dishes on a rotation basis. Draco tended to the gardens, because it relaxed him.

 

Terence brought a House Elf with him: the overeager little guy, Toppy, was assigned the general maintenance and cleaning of the magical building.

 

Meanwhile, the adults prepared lesson plans, schedules, arranged interviews to find teachers who would swear an Unbreakable Vow, and assisted the teens when needed. Sirius’ first encounter with the vacuum cleaner made Draco cry with laughter: the poor man had been snoozing in his Animagus form at the time and acted traumatized for an entire hour afterwards.

 

Every evening, Harry taught everyone a few facts about the Muggle world or made them watch a movie. They were amused by films about magic and Draco loved Willow. In return, they taught him about Wizarding traditions (after gasping in horror when he admitted he knew nothing. It explained so much).

 

Millicent taught Harry how to swim (when she learned the only reason he didn’t drown in the Triwizard Tournament was because he ate Gillyweed, she couldn’t quite believe how careless the organizers had been). The teenagers played football, board games, lazed on the beach or in the garden, read the books they regularly got from Tonks’ shopping trips and tried not to mention anything about Voldemort.

 

Now that they had wands, they spent quite a bit of time practising magic outside or in their future school. Sirius told them about the Dementors in the Forbidden Forest, and they insisted to see Harry’s Patronus.

 

The messy-haired boy was now tasked with teaching them all. Sirius volunteered to help, but no one could produce more than a puff of smoke at this point.

 

They learned glamour spells, Disillusionment and advanced Silencing Charms, and Apparition. Tonks insisted to get them all up to speed before venturing into town, just in case. Once at least two of them could safely cast them, they started organizing outings.

 

Harry, Daphne, Astoria and Sirius were the first to travel to the retail centre. The girls couldn’t believe their eyes. There was nothing similar in their world: the stores were massive and filled with an insane variety of items. Harry bought a wide array of Muggle books as recommended by Tonks: novels, comics he had always wanted to read but couldn’t because Dudley hoarded them like a dragon, and school material. He thought scientific textbooks would interest the others.

 

Daphne loved the luxury cosmetic store and was fascinated by the home electronics department, and Astoria had to be dragged out of the greenhouse before she bought too many plants. Harry bought a giant cat tree for Perseus and practised his Shrinking Charm on it once he was out of sight.

 

When they were finished, the Animagus took some time to buy a car. A Confundus Charm and a Translation Charm made it easy since he didn’t have his license with him anymore (it had been lost when he was captured), and he was now the proud owner of a black Mercedes Sprinter Van.

 

He drove them all back to the hotel.

 

Draco spent the whole evening in absolute confusion at the very thought that Harry, of all people, would buy such a fantastic gift for his cat. He didn’t even notice that Harry was no longer _Potter_ in his mind.


	7. School Begins

_September 1st_

 

Harry woke up early on the first day of term and stared at the ceiling. For the first time in years, there was no lingering dread behind his usual “first day of school” anticipation. Truthfully, the only time he ever felt so blissfully content was on that same morning, five years ago, when he still thought Hogwarts would magically erase his problems. He was in a beautiful country, far from the Dursleys and from whatever horror would roam the halls of the Scottish castle this year. He had his godfather here with him, a man who spent hours every week with a mind-healer from Oslo just so he could be the best possible parent to Harry. He had good friends, some of whom he even trusted with his life at this point, and some who would always be slightly more than acquaintances. Of course, he missed his other friends, but… he was in no hurry to go back.

 

Today, he wouldn’t need to ask Uncle Vernon to drive him to King’s Cross. There would be no Chocolate Frogs to share, no insults traded with his nemesis, and no Exploding Snap with Ron. Said-nemesis was the owner of the small ball of fluff that was currently sleeping in Harry’s bed.

 

Careful not to wake the cat, he slipped out of bed, scratched the back of his head, and removed his pyjama to take a shower.

 

He didn’t need to hurry in the morning anymore: a week ago, Tonks had hired two Squibs who had just enough magic to be under magical oaths. They took care of the chores the teenagers had so far handled themselves. Theo still insisted to cook whenever he felt like it, but it wasn’t required anymore.

 

The Tranquil Spire Hotel was now home to Andromeda and Ted Tonks. They had enough teachers to get the education they wanted and had a solid tutoring schedule.

 

Harry enjoyed the feeling of warm water rushing down his body, sighing as he felt his limbs wake up. He loved his room and bathroom. He loved spending hours every day with Sirius, swimming with his new friends (with a Warming Charm - the water was cold, and the weather rarely rose above 20 degrees), playing Quidditch when everyone had good brooms, and watching movies he had always wanted to see as a child. He enjoyed the now rarer disbelief on the other teens’ faces when he gave them a new piece of information on the Muggle world, and he couldn’t wait to go back to the shopping centre with Draco.

 

Draco. Now, that had been the most surprising element since the truce. Not only were they finally on first-name-basis, but they also spent time in each other’s company without being forced to. Draco was hilarious. When they went shopping together, he kept up a running commentary on everything they saw, sometimes even inventing ridiculous ads and voicing them in bizarre tones. Last time, because of the movie they’d seen the night before, he imitated Iago from Aladdin while they were on the interior decorating floor. Harry couldn’t remember ever laughing so hard. He was a deadpan comedian and Harry couldn’t understand why they had never spoken civilly earlier. Aside from the whole blood supremacy problem. He even liked it when he acted all superior and mighty, now that he knew he shouldn’t take it too seriously.

 

Against all odds, Harry considered him his closest friend with Ron and Hermione. They rarely spoke for long; Draco was secretive and didn’t display his emotions openly unless something angered him. The black-haired boy had an easier time discussing sensitive topics with Theo, who reminded him of what Neville could be like if he had any confidence in himself. Blaise, Susan and Daphne were now a tight-knit group who usually hung out on their own, while Millicent and Astoria liked being together best. Harry had all but adopted Astoria as a little sister since the day she had produced a small spider Patronus. She was thirteen, so Harry was exceedingly proud of her.

 

His Patronus lessons challenged the Slytherins who currently struggled with truly happy memories and thoughts. Terence was having the most troubles with it: his reason for being here haunted him night and day. As soon as the school year ended, his parents had taken him to Voldemort, offering him in servitude. He barely managed to slip away before being Marked, and that was only because Voldemort was busy torturing someone. He hid with his best friend, Adrian Pucey, whose family wanted nothing to do with the Death Eaters. Soon after, his parents filed a missing person report, joining the ones made by Lucius Malfoy, Genevieve Greengrass and the Bulstrode family. It alerted Amelia Bones as they were among those claiming Imperius after the war. Because Terence was seventeen, his parents couldn’t legally force him to come back home if they saw him again. He was contacted by the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, emptied his personal vault, swore he would keep in touch with Adrian when possible, and ran away when Tonks picked him up.

 

He was doing his best though, but so far, he and Draco were still unable to produce more than bright wisps of smoke.

 

Theo’s Patronus was a fruit bat. It wasn’t corporeal yet and only appeared as a faint silhouette. Blaise’s produced a peacock, to Draco’s amusement, while Daphne’s was a horse. Susan’s showed a prowling cat and Millicent’s was a bear. Harry liked teaching them and Sirius often offered them all good advice.

 

After drying his hair and body with a soft towel that smelled of lavender, Harry brushed his teeth and dressed in the robes they had all chosen as a uniform: they had the same cut as Hogwarts robes, only they were entirely black except for small embroidered lines of silver along the edges. Under the robes, they wore elegant black waistcoats, and Millicent was delighted at the possibility of wearing pants instead of showing her legs. Susan, Astoria and Daphne chose the more feminine version of their outfit, but the dress was longer, more appropriate for witches.

 

They Owl Ordered them from a tailor in the magical village near Oslo: Hedwig, who was rather bored, had been delighted to fly all the way to the capital. There were several owl postal boxes scattered through the country and Tonks was still setting up theirs, but Hedwig was granted access. Instead of bringing mail to the hotel, she would drop it there, where one of the adults would Apparate to pick it up. The postal box required heavy wards, able to disrupt tracking charms as soon as an owl approached it.

 

It had been decided unanimously that it would be best if their school year was as close to the real thing as possible. This meant calling their teachers Professor, sitting at different tables during meals and wearing their uniform.

 

He was putting on his shoes when Draco peeked into his room, impeccably groomed.

 

“Perseus abandoned me, is he here?”

 

“Yeah. Must be part-kneazle, my door wasn’t open.”

 

Perseus choose this moment to wake up and rub his body against his owner’s leg. Draco raised an unimpressed eyebrow and picked him up.

 

“You, fluffball, are in so much trouble.” He then peppered him with kisses and only let him go when sharp claws dug into his arm. “Shall we?”

 

“After you.”

 

They arrived in the dining hall just in time. Grabbing a plate already filled with eggs, bacon and sausages, they sat next to each other and listened to the Squibs bickering. Miss Sundheim, the oldest, had very strong opinions on scrambled eggs and Mister Hammer disagreed.

 

Theo was the last one in and he still looked half-asleep. Sirius took the time to hug his godson, then distributed their schedule. Astoria would be tutored on Third and Fourth Year material by Tonks and Terence until she caught up. She wasn’t expected to pass her OWLs this year, but after the Patronus, she wanted to try. Terence would study with each adult on his own for Seventh Year material. He also requested an introduction to Healing with Crowfeet, wishing to work towards a Mastery in the domain. He would, however, join everyone else for lessons that were not on the Hogwarts curriculum.

 

Harry compared his schedule to Draco’s:

 

Monday

* Potions/Herbology, 9:00-10:00 : V. Gnedykh

* Potions/Herbology, 10:15-11:15 : V. Gnedykh

* Self-study: Wandlore, 11:20-12:20

* Transfiguration, 13:20-15:20 : A.Tonks

* Tutoring: Ancient Runes, 15:50-17:00 : S. Black with D.Malfoy

 

Tuesday

* History of Magic, 9:00-10:00 : Study Group

* Charms, 10:15-11:15 : N.Tonks

* Self-study: Wandlore, 11:20-12:20

* Transfiguration, 13:20-15:20 : A.Tonks

* Tutoring: Ancient Runes, 15:50-17:00 : A.Tonks with T.Nott

 

Wednesday

* Defence, 9:00-10:00 : S.Black

* Duelling, 10:15-11:15 : S. Black, N. Tonks

* Self-study: Ley Lines Studies, Weather Magic, 11:20-12:20

* Theory: Muggle Astronomy and Introduction to Physics, 13:20-15:20 : T.Tonks

* Tutoring: Defence, 15:50-17:00 : H.Potter (teaching)

* Practice: Astronomy, 23:00-01:00, once every fortnight :  T.Tonks

 

Thursday

* Duelling, 9:00-10:00, once every fortnight : S. Black, N. Tonks

* Dark Arts Theory, 10:15-11:15 : : V. Gnedykh

* Tutoring: Animagus Studies, 11:20-12:20 : S. Black

* Theory: Biology, 13:20-15:20 : N.Hammer, P.Crowfeet, T. Tonks

* Practical: Biology, 15:50-17:00 : N.Hammer, P.Crowfeet, T. Tonks

 

Friday

* Potions/Herbology, 9:00-10:00 : V. Gnedykh

* Defence, 10:15-11:15 : S.Black

* Study Group, 11:20-12:20

* Transfiguration, 13:20-15:20 : A.Tonks

* Occlumency, 15:50-17:00 : S. Black

 

Draco followed almost the same schedule with a few exceptions: he already knew Occlumency, so he would use that time for Arithmancy tutoring with Terence, who earned an O on his OWL. He didn’t care for anything to do with Biology and Care of Magical Creatures so his Thursdays afternoon would be dedicated to Fifth Year material on Ancient Runes, taught by Andromeda. He would share it with everyone but Susan, Harry, Astoria and Terence. Astoria and Harry were both beginners and thus would share their tutoring sessions. As for self-study, after reading a book from Harry’s collection, Draco became fascinated by natural phenomena. He intended to study them the Muggle way, through Physical Geography, then move on to Geology or Meteorology. He would join Harry in his self-study on Weather Magic as well.

 

His other self-study periods would be filled with Advanced Charms. He liked Potions, but Charms held a special place in his heart, and he knew studying them would make his mother proud. They could also be useful in Weather Magic.

 

The lesson they all agreed with was Animagus Studies. Tonks would turn a blind eye to it, and Sirius kept boasting about his own experience.

 

“Nott, why in the name of Merlin do you have so many culinary lessons in there?” Millicent pressed a hand on her chest.

 

“Well, if you must know, _Bulstrode_ , I happened to find cooking with Harry quite enjoyable. I am curious to know more, and to study Magical Cooking.”

 

“Miss Sundheim is looking so smug right now,” Blaise observed.

 

“When I own the most renowned restaurant in the Magical world, you’ll all beg me for a reservation.”

 

“I still prefer Harry’s coq au vin to yours,” Draco drawled.

 

“I didn’t know you had tried Theo’s _coq_.” Harry shut his mouth and hid his face between his hands, groaning.

 

Silence stretched out for what seemed like an absurdly long time before Sirius guffawed loudly. He was quickly followed by giggles and snickers.

 

“Harry, _caro_ , I love you,” Blaise exclaimed. “That was fantastic.”

 

“It wasn’t!” He peeked through his fingers, only to find Sirius beaming with pride and winking at him. Draco held his head up high, pointy nose in the air, looking unbothered but with a pink blush dusting his cheeks. Harry felt himself redden even more, but for a different reason. Had he just thought the other boy was _cute_?

 

 

***

 

 

Professor Gnedykh used his first lesson to go over Potions Theory, explaining it in a way the Slytherins considered almost condescending. Harry had no complaint: Snape had never bothered teaching them anything useful, only assuming they already knew and understood everything. Not to mention asking questions was discouraged. Reading ahead in their books never helped if no one ever took the time to teach the basics. The only reason Slytherins were good at it was that most of them had Potions Theory tutoring as children.

 

Gnedykh’s recommended books for the year included the _Beginner’s Guide to Potions Ingredients_ , _Why Your Potion Could Explode_ , and _Herbology Essentials: The Use of Plants as Ingredients_. Harry read them from cover to cover during the summer. He had a chance to learn Potions properly; he wouldn’t waste it. Since there wouldn’t be random ingredients thrown into his cauldron by another student, he might even manage to produce good results.

 

Sirius, or Professor Black (Harry thought it was hilarious), was a surprisingly good teacher. Draco listened to him avidly. Being taught Auror-level Defence did wonders for everyone’s motivation. Of course, his program included a review of what they had been and _should_ have been taught so far. They would practice with Harry during their weekly Defence tutoring session to allow Sirius to go through new material.

 

In Transfiguration, Andromeda reminded them of McGonagall. They barely knew her, having only met recently, but they all respected her (and Draco was still shocked to be surrounded by family members he had always been warned against). Theo struggled with the Doubling Charm: his potato wouldn’t stop duplicating because he mispronounced the counter-charm. They had hundreds of potatoes on the floor by the time he finally cancelled it. Unfortunately, they weren’t edible and had to be Vanished - which allowed the teens to practice this one as well.

 

At the end of their first day, satisfied, the teens named their unofficial school the Lilium School for Magic.

 

 

***

 

 

Professor Gnedykh was sitting on his desk when the teenagers entered the Dark Arts classroom. They had Astronomy the previous night and were still slightly bleary-eyed. Draco sat with Harry and Theo in the front row. This was the only class everyone had in common. Terence joined Millicent, exchanging curious looks with Astoria. None of them knew what this class would be like: they had not been given books for it yet.

 

“Good morning. Wands away, please.”

 

They were used to their Professor’s low and accented voice by now, having seen him regularly since his arrival in Norway. He spoke differently when he taught Potions, however; somehow, his greetings today were almost cheerful.

 

“Most of you have been brought up in Dark-aligned families. You have knowledge your peers do not, but don’t be mistaken, most of that knowledge is useless.”

 

Blaise and Theo bristled but nobody whispered.

 

Their teacher walked to the blackboard. “The Dark Arts are so much more than what you’ve been taught, be it from your upbringing, your preconceptions, or your Defence lessons. Can you give me a specific example of Dark Magic? Bones?”

 

The redhead blinked “The Unforgivables.”

 

“Incorrect. Potter?”

 

“Necromantic rituals.”

 

Surprised, Draco stared at the black-haired boy. A hush fell on the already silent classroom. Gnedykh nodded.

 

“Let’s start with the Unforgivables,” he announced, writing on the blackboard. “Why do you think they are not Dark Magic?”

 

Astoria raised her hand. “But they are, sir.”

 

“By your Ministry’s definition, yes. But your Ministry, for the past eighty years at the very least, has had a very narrow-minded view of Magic as a whole. The Unforgivables are not internationally recognized as the worst curses in existence. Would you rather be killed by an Avada Kedavra, or die a slow death as your skin is peeled off your muscles, or your skeleton is pulled out of your body?”

 

Everyone shuddered. Harry’s skin was pale.

 

“That’s what I thought. There is no reason, NONE, to label three curses Unforgivables, while simply banning the others. No other spell results in a life sentence in Azkaban. Being unable to counter them does not make them worse. You can fight the Imperius with Mind Magic, or if your willpower is strong enough. You can avoid the Killing Curse if you just move out of the way, or hide behind a rock, a tree, hell another person. The Cruciatus is, in itself, more dangerous, as it incapacitates you for a time and leaves you vulnerable. But, just like the Killing Curse, it’s avoidable if you don’t stay rooted to the spot.”

 

He started pacing. “The Unforgivables were not created with evil in mind and for this reason, several countries, including my own, treat them the same as any other spell, and label them Grey Magic. One is a humane killing method, still used on the animals you eat today. It requires special authorization, but the facts remain. It can be used to end the sufferings of a living being; in this case, is it Dark? Mercy killings exist and are done with the best intentions. Sometimes, there is no other way. The Imperius was created to facilitate the lives of farmers and herders, avoiding wandering cattle when they needed to be brought back to the farm. It has less ethical uses than the Killing Curse but has been used in the past to save lives. Say you stumble upon a wizard attacking a defenceless child. He didn’t notice you. You can, of course, stun him, and I agree that it would be a better option, but you could also cast Imperio on him and make him stop. Armand of Langres, who was a Beauxbatons teacher in the 16th Century, was known to stop assaults and force their perpetrators to turn themselves in and confess. He was no Dark Wizard. The Cruciatus was invented by a physician who was looking for ways to repair nerve damage.”

 

“Everything is Dark if used for nefarious purposes,” Theo muttered in understanding.

 

“Rituals are Dark Magic by definition,” the teacher continued, locking eyes with Harry. “Does anyone know why?”

 

Draco shuffled in his seat, his hand already cramping from his frantic note-taking, and paused. “They use magic that is not ours.”

 

Gnedykh smiled, and it made him look like a shark. He asked him to elaborate, so Draco bit back the urge to keep everything to himself and talked. He was betraying a taboo by discussing it.

 

“Ritualistic Magic calls upon the magic of the land and ancient powers. This is Dark, because it borrows magic we do not own, and requires sacrifices in return - these are rarely honoured. Any other magic uses our own power, so the only effect it has is exhaustion if abused. Rituals also bring unwanted attention to our world and can have consequences on future generations if the sacrifice is forgotten or deemed insufficient. Squibs are said to be born in families who attracted a particularly powerful entity without meaning to. Low birth rate or infertility can affect anyone in the family, even those who never took part in any ritual.” Draco bit his lower lip. He would probably never have a sibling, and he had Squib cousins. Next to him, Harry was trembling. Draco frowned and raised his hand again before Gnedykh could speak. “Excuse me, Professor? May we be excused for a few minutes?”

 

The man took one look at him, then at Harry, and gave a short nod. Draco stood up, gently grabbed Harry’s arm, and whispered that he needed to talk to him. Jerkily, the Boy-Who-Lived agreed, and they both hurried out of the classroom. Worried, the blond boy led Harry outside.

 

The weather was much colder now. They weren’t near the North Cape, but still at the same latitude as Iceland and it was more than obvious now. Draco hastily closed his robe and looked at his Slytherin scarf, shrunk and kept preciously in his pocket. He enlarged it, and on impulse, wrapped it around Harry’s neck. He placed a hand on his shoulder and waited.

 

If Harry wanted to talk, Draco would listen. If he just needed some air, he would stay, because Harry shouldn’t be left alone when he was seconds away from falling apart. The boy sniffled and turned his head away.

 

Draco knew very little about Voldemort’s resurrection but only a Necromantic Ritual could have brought him back. He cursed himself for speaking up in class: though unwilling, Harry had participated. The Malfoy Heir couldn’t even reassure him; he didn’t know if the ritual had attracted attention from anything, but it had been powerful, and the Dark Lord wasn’t one to care for higher powers. The sacrifices involved might not have been enough to satisfy them.

 

Suddenly, Harry turned around to look at him. The despair in his green eyes made Draco’s heart hurt. He wished he could just hug him, and not let go.

 

“Why me?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

 

That was enough. Ignoring his instincts, Draco stepped closer and enveloped him in a tight embrace. Harry grasped the back of his robes and hid his face against the black fabric, and Draco didn’t let go. He didn’t speak. He just held him and wished the most agonizing death upon the Dark Lord.


	8. Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very short but important chapter, so I won't make you wait too long for the next one!

_Mate,_

 

_Thanks for writing, it’s great to hear from you. Crabbe stole Neville’s toad on the train, but Neville had that weird stinky plant and it squirted something gross all over Crabbe’s face._

 

_Angelina’s Quidditch Captain. We have a Ministry woman for Defence. Good news though, the Ferret isn’t here. We’re missing a lot of Junior Death Eaters. You should see the articles in the Prophet. They’re blaming the usual suspect._

 

_Have to go,_

 

_R._

 

 

***

 

 

_Pronglet (it’s so strange to call you that! But I agree, it’s best to use nicknames),_

 

_The Headmaster looks so tired these days! When he asked to speak to me, he said to make sure you knew how sorry he was. He apologizes for your wand and will write to you and Snuffles as soon as he can._

 

_The Ministry hired Madam Umbridge for DADA this year. Professor Dumbledore must have struggled to find someone. You know me, I would be the last person to judge a teacher’s competence at first sight, but she is NOT a teacher!_

 

_The book for DADA this year is Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard. Of course, I already read it all and I must say, it’s appalling! There’s nothing about using magic. It’s about avoiding conflict, finding peaceful solutions. Umbridge told us there would be no need to practice any sort of magic since we would never use it. I lost points for Gryffindor because I disagreed._

 

_We share the class with Slytherin. Crabbe laughed at me, but you should have seen the others’ faces. They were so annoyed! Parkinson asked how we were supposed to pass our practical Defence OWL and Umbridge had the gall to tell us if we studied theory hard enough, we would ace it._

 

_I can’t believe the Ministry would go so far! No, that’s a lie. After what happened, I just wish I was still surprised. I don’t know what we’ll do. I would even welcome Lockhart back with open arms._

 

_Snape is so much worse than usual. He took fifty points because of Neville’s potion. It smelt like rotten eggs. Hagrid isn’t teaching this year. I have no idea where he is, and I’m worried._

 

_I hope you’re happy and safe wherever you are. Write to me?_

 

_Love,_

 

_H._

 

 

***

 

 

_My dearest son,_

 

_I am well. I shall rest easier now that communication is possible, but I wish I could be with you. Thank you for keeping me informed of my godson’s well-being and please let him know I miss both of you._

 

_I was glad to hear about your new friendship. I trust you will treasure it and I urge you to let this person know they are appreciated. Don’t be too cold, my dear, no one can judge you now._

 

_I must say I wish I could hear about your classes, but I am satisfied with your adventures in the Muggle world. Who knew they could be so ingenious?_

_I hope you are not taking unnecessary risks. I do consider travelling in one of these strange carriages dangerous and I would rather not be told about your personal experiences with them._

 

_Be safe and enjoy this new chance at life, dear._

 

_With my love and affection,_

 

_Mother_

 

 

***

 

 

/////This letter has been analysed and deemed dangerous. Neutralized Spells are as follow:

Tracking Charm

Blood Binding Curse

Unknown Family Magic - Dark

Compulsion Charm

 

Magic of the Written Word found. Text erased.

Parchment coated in Will-sapping Solution. Neutralized.//////

 

Sender: Lucius Abraxas Malfoy

Recipient: Draco Lucius Malfoy

 

 

***

 

 

_Pads,_

 

_I can’t believe you just left! Without talking to anyone! Dumbledore has no idea where you are. I have a feeling our Pronglet is learning things he shouldn’t and will soon be an Animagus. Am I wrong? Of course not._

 

_I apologize for being so brief, I’m writing this as quickly as I can. Don’t respond. I can’t receive mail yet. I’ll write back when I’m back home._

 

_Moony_

 

 

***

 

 

_Mione,_

 

_I literally can’t tell you anything about me or what’s happening. It’s annoying._

 

_Umbridge sounds like a nightmare. I checked that book yesterday and laughed. I’d like to see someone tell Voldemort that he should stop fighting because it’s so much better to be friends. They could run away together in the sunset._

 

_To read my next letter, you will need to think like a Marauder._

 

_Love,_

 

_Pronglet_

 

 

***

 

 

_Ron,_

 

_Good on Neville!_

 

_Say hi to your family for me!_

 

_Pronglet_

 

 

***

 

 

_Pronglet,_

 

_You won’t believe what happened today. Umbridge talked about Harry Potter and how liars always get their just dessert. Davis asked what the lie was about, and then Goyle, of all people, told her she was an idiotic toad and that “the Dark Lord” was back!_

 

_Slytherin lost a hundred points and they all got Detention! Not that there are a lot of them left though. But it gets better: Lavender now has a crush on Goyle. I feel like my brain is dying each time I spend a minute in the dorms with her._

 

_Love,_

 

_H._

 

 

***

 

 

_To our mighty co-pranker,_

 

_Thanks for the ingenious disguise system._

 

_Umbridge will never see us coming. Weekly reports of mischief incoming!_

 

_Gred and Forge_

 

 

***

 

 

_Mione,_

 

_Your intentions have been true to the spirit of the Marauders. Welcome to a world of “I can write whatever I want now except what I can’t mention”. This parchment has the same enchantment that’s on the Marauder’s Map. I thought I should disguise it under a supposed letter from your parents. If it was empty, it’d attract attention._

 

_Good for Goyle! Tell me if they start dating, that’ll fuel my nightmares. I don’t get enough of those._

 

_Why not start a Defence Club? Make sure to include every House._

 

_I don’t want to create more trouble for you guys, but you need to learn to defend yourselves properly. What we learned so far is completely useless! Third Year was all about Magical Creatures, so we don’t even know defensive spells. You can’t always win a fight with Expelliarmus. Yes, that’s ironic coming from me, I know._

 

_You should learn to use Charms and Transfiguration in Defence. I know Conjuration is Sixth Year material, but you can already do it, right? Think how useful it could be in a fight._

 

_Also, Patronus. Let me know if you need help with that one._

 

_Love,_

 

_Pronglet_

 

 

***

 

 

_Pronglet,_

 

_Defense Club is a GO!_

 

_Ron_


	9. Samhain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last scene of this chapter is a bit gory, but I need to mention that it is not a suicide.

Draco pretended he didn’t understand how Perseus managed to wake up in Harry’s bed most mornings. So far, the Kneazle explanation was widely accepted. However, Perseus was just a normal cat. No, the truth was that he calmed Harry’s nightmares. They had gotten worse since their very first Dark Arts lesson.

 

Without any Silencing Charm to muffle his screams, the other boy always woke Draco up, who took it as a cue to slip the cat into his friend’s room. Harry adored the fluffball as a result: Perseus gave him his sleep back. Seeing him cuddle his cat was bad for Draco’s heart though, and it was becoming harder to hide his blush. Why did he have to be so pale?  Now that he could legitimately call Harry his friend, the crush he had hidden behind sneers and jibes for their entire Fourth Year was making a triumphant return.

 

It wouldn’t do.

 

Harry was stupidly adorable. With his stupid hair, his stupid eyes, his stupid smile. He was a smartass and such a sneaky bastard when he wanted to. And he could have been a Slytherin! A fact he accidentally shared, to everyone’s disbelief, especially Sirius’ (Draco had finally stopped calling him Black in his head. They were family. Outside the classroom, he didn’t need to be overly polite. The same could be said for his uncle Ted and his aunt Andromeda. He liked them both. Andromeda was terrifying).

 

Back to Harry, the aftereffects of the Dark Arts class could still be seen in his attitude. He was slightly more withdrawn after learning something new. Sometimes, it was because he still thought about the Necromantic Ritual. The rest of the time, it was because he was attempting to digest the content of their latest lesson. Recently, they learned to classify different types of magic and the lessons were just as fascinating as they were disturbing. Draco, Theo and Terence were knowledgeable in Ritualistic Magic due to their family traditions, but they had never been allowed to participate in anything. Blaise had a good understanding of Blood Magic: his mother, who wasn’t fully Human, taught him what she could. Millicent knew curses that she had always believed to be Dark with no redeeming quality and was dumbfounded when she was told otherwise.

 

They were taught that no spell was truly Light, and no spell was Dark unless it was combined by a type of Dark Magic. Even a Patronus could be used as a weapon: it could distract someone, or be used as a tool for betrayal, carrying messages to the wrong person. If sent to someone who was attempting to conceal their presence, its light could reveal his hiding spot.

 

Draco’s mind was still reeling from this latest revelation, and Harry, who had so little exposure to the magical world, was in a perpetual state of confusion. Today, however, Draco knew his friend would not think about school.

 

He quietly slipped into Harry’s room and smiled. Perseus was sleeping on top of the other boy’s head, who was almost entirely covered by the heavy quilt. Having learned that surprising him rarely ended well, he called his name a few times, until he heard him grumble about mornings. Snickering, he climbed into bed with him and lay on top of the comforter. A disgruntled Perseus stirred and rolled over, then green eyes peeked above the covers and fell on Draco’s face.

 

“Hey.” Harry’s voice was rough.

 

“Morning.”

 

“Did I forget something? What’s happening?”

 

“It’s Tuesday.”

 

Harry turned on his side to face him. “Don’t care. Sleepy.”

 

“It’s Samhain,” Draco prodded.

 

Green eyes widened and filled with sadness.

 

“I’m sorry.” The blond shifted, found Harry’s glasses, and placed them on the boy’s nose. “I just thought you would like to join us. Lessons are cancelled for the day.”

 

Draco wondered what Harry usually did to honour his parents. The Hogwarts Feast, while organized for Halloween, was still part of Samhain traditions. Sadly, Dumbledore ignored everything else about them, turning one of the most important days of the year into a farce.

 

“Why?” Harry asked. “I don’t really want to. Halloween isn’t a day I’m very fond of.”

 

“What do they do in the Gryffindors dorms on that day?”

 

“Insider knowledge will cost you.”

 

Draco smirked. “I let you borrow my cat.”

 

“Mh. Acceptable,” Harry chuckled. Merlin, but he was cute. “Fred and George share candy, usually. But every year, something happened, so I don’t know if they do anything else. First Year was the troll, Second was the first Petrification… like I said, I’m not fond of it.”

 

Was it possible that Harry knew nothing? They were not just Wizarding traditions. Muggles followed them too, a long time ago. Was the knowledge lost to them?

 

“Do you do anything to honour the dead?” he asked, and the bewilderment on Harry’s face answered his questions nicely. He sat up. “Alright. I’m suggesting that you join us for a day of remembrance. That is the true meaning of Samhain. You eat, you light fires, and you honour the departed.”

 

Harry pushed the quilt aside and rose on his elbows, then sat on his knees.

 

“My parents…?”

 

“I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important. I think today will be good for you and Sirius.”

 

“Nobody told me. I didn’t know!”

 

He looked angry. Draco dragged him out of bed and pushed him into the bathroom. He took a deep breath, opened the closet, and thanked Sirius for buying great clothes to his godson. He selected simple black robes, a pair of woollen gloves, a soft scarf and a winter hat. Having opened the window in his own room earlier, he thought Harry would appreciate the extra warmth when they ventured outside. Himself wore the same colour, though his robes were longer, and he wore the Malfoy Family Crest below his shoulder.

 

A knock and the door opened. “Draco, is Harry here?” Sirius looked downcast yet determined.

 

“In the shower.” He ran his fingers on the soft fabric of the robes. “I explained the basics. I don’t think he knew what today was all about.”

 

Sirius ran a hand in his black hair with a deep sigh. “No, I’d have been surprised if he did. I’m bringing his Crest. Do you want to present it to him?”

 

Draco stopped dead in his tracks. “That- are you certain?”

 

“I am. Also, you should wear the Black Family Crest.”

 

Soon his fingers closed around two flat wooden boxes. Sirius’ gave him a look, winked, and left in a hurry. Draco couldn’t believe it. There was so much meaning behind his gesture that his emotions almost choked him.

 

It was acceptance. Carefully setting the clothes on the bed and the first box on the desk, he slowly opened the other and stared at the Black Family’s Coat of Arms. His mother’s family. A part of his blood he was still proud of. Gently, he removed the Malfoy Crest from his chest. One day, he would perhaps wear it again, but as long as Lucius was the Head of his House, he felt better without it. The elaborate Black Crest replaced it on his robes just as Harry exited the bathroom.

 

“Really? You’re choosing my clothes?”

 

Draco sniffed haughtily. “It wouldn’t do to see you wear jeans and that horrid jumper of yours today.”

 

“You love my jumper.” Harry buttoned the robe quickly.

 

“Because it’s warm!”

 

“When the Weasleys learn that we’re friends, you’re getting one too. Just saying.”

 

“If I must.”

 

Before he could change his mind, Draco moved closer and held out the wooden box. Harry searched his face for any hint before taking it and peering inside.

 

“That’s the Potter Crest,” the blond explained, took it from him, and delicately placed it on his chest. “You wear it for important occasions.”

 

He was immediately hugged within an inch of his life.

 

 

***

 

 

Sirius spoke of Lily and James when the flames of the bonfire rose towards the darkening skies. He told stories of their time together, of their joy when Harry was born, of their love and kindness. He talked about James, how he was always a good person to his friends but had to grow up in more ways than one to earn Lily’s approval. He sang Lily’s favourite song and shared some of the funniest moments he could remember.

 

Tears ran down his cheeks, but he was smiling. Harry, sitting close to Draco, sighed sadly, and at some point during the retelling, he rested his head on the other boy’s shoulder. He had never known so many details about his parents' lives. All he had heard until now was how amazing they were, how the Marauders were hilarious and talented, and how he looked so much like his dad, but with his mother’s eyes. There was so much more to it. He glanced at his family crest, the metal reflecting the fire and he relished in the feeling of Draco’s arm around his body.

 

Sirius mentioned Harry’s grandparents, Euphemia and Fleamont, who offered him shelter when he ran away from home. Names the boy hadn’t known until now. Andromeda, Nymphadora and Ted shared their own stories about his parents and moved on to honour family members unknown to Harry, including Sirius’ brother. Daphne and Astoria spoke about their grandmother, Theo about his mother.

 

One by one, they each said a word or two, or simply kept quiet and sent their love in thoughts. Harry thanked his parents for saving his life.

 

Draco squeezed him just a bit tighter.

 

When the last ray of sunlight completely disappeared on the horizon, they moved to the long table facing the fire. Food was served, kept warm by an array of charms, and even though it was still only five in the afternoon, Harry found himself starving. He tried a bit of everything: mince pie, roasted carrots and squash, pumpkin tart, fruit cake, mashed potatoes, and took two servings of beef stew.

 

While the atmosphere wasn’t as cheerful as Hogwarts, Harry thought he preferred it this way. Draco told him it was more respectful to laugh at amusing memories of the dead if they remembered what the day was about. It was not a time to mourn, but the meaning of these celebrations shouldn’t be forgotten. Harry liked it.

 

Terence’s House Elf started playing a folk melody halfway through the meal, leading to a dance between Astoria, Blaise and Theo. Crowfeet and Tonks joined them, though Tonks’ legendary clumsiness nearly sent the stew flying. Terence invited Susan to dance with him, and soon laughter filled the air together with the crackling of the high flames.

 

Harry had no desire to display his lack of skills. He walked away from the table and celebrations, feeling oddly content, and listened to the music fading as he reached the cliff. The wind was cold. He renewed the Warming Charm over his clothes.

 

He was honestly surprised by his own happiness when Draco wrapped his arms around him and pressed himself against his back. There were many words he wished to say, yet none came. Instead, he straightened his back and turned around.

 

His breath caught. His mind whirred, screaming in anticipation, wonder and fear. He had no idea what he was doing, but he drowned in Draco’s eyes. They were so close. He didn’t want to leave his embrace, and soon found his fingers playing with the hair at the back of the other boy’s neck.

 

Draco’s hands pressed them closer.

 

His lips tasted like fruit cake.

 

All thoughts left Harry’s brain as he concentrated on the feeling of his first kiss. He felt like the first time he flew on a broom. Breathless, exhilarated, free. He enjoyed the sensation of Draco’s fingers wandering up his back and losing themselves in his hair and shivered at the first experimental licks of his tongue. He parted his lips, curious, and quickly melted in Draco’s arms.

 

He never wanted this moment to end.

 

 

***

 

 

Far from the bonfire and the edge of the cliff, surrounded by trees shivering in the evening breeze, Vitaly Gnedykh finished tracing an elaborate runic circle around a small dark-haired fabric doll. He double-checked his work and kneeled down on the cold ground.

 

He dipped a curved dagger in a small cauldron, coating the blade in blood. Carefully, he let the liquid drop from the blade onto the doll.

 

He listened.

 

When the wind stopped blowing and the sound of the feast vanished, when the crashing of waves disappeared and the moonlight died, the runes on the ground shone eerily, as green as Harry Potter’s eyes, as bright as the Killing Curse.

 

He spoke in hushed tones, Parseltongue flowing from his lips in a single breath.

 

“Show me the hidden darkness I seek.”

“Show me the death of the one I despise.”

 

Vitaly’s hand rose, still holding the dagger.

 

“Show me the Dark among us.”

 

The man slit his throat.

 

On the ground, a red light pulsed on the doll’s forehead.


	10. Human Horcrux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm delighted to see more and more people reading this. Thank you for the kudos and comments!

Sirius wished he could complain to Moony about needing to wash his eyeballs with soap after witnessing his godson and his cousin devouring each other’s mouths under the moonlight. While he was quite happy to have a reason to tease both of them mercilessly, he truly did not need to hear Harry moaning. Padfoot’s ears were sensitive, Merlin damn it all.

 

When everyone was dancing around the fire, he had turned into his Animagus form and looked for his godson, hoping he would not find him in tears after such an emotionally draining day. Needless to say, Padfoot hightailed it and rushed back to the hotel, before turning back into Sirius and laughing hysterically once he was sure nobody would come and ask him what happened.

 

He was now pilfering the stock of alcohol in the kitchen. Miss Sundheim would disapprove if she wasn’t already drunk and dancing with Healer Crowfeet outside. Mister Hammer was done for the day, as it was his mother’s birthday.

 

A can of beer in hand, Sirius enjoyed the silence. The fridge was humming but he found it soothing. He drank slowly, thinking about his life, Harry, Moony, and the British Wizarding World.

 

He couldn’t help but want to thank the Ministry for forcing them to leave the country. Harry had never been safer. And even if Sirius knew how much it hurt when your own world turned against you, he could bet his godson felt vindicated by the sole fact that he was still performing magic.

 

The Animagus loved everything about Norway. He was free to care for the teen just like Lily and James wanted. Sure, he wished the curriculum didn’t include Dark Arts, but after discussing these lessons with Harry, he understood why they were useful. Speaking of curriculum, the Animagus studies were absolutely hilarious and he wished James could have been there to see Harry when the boy ended up with leathery skin on his hands. The Zabini boy bet ten Galleons that Harry would be a lizard, or all things. Draco had gotten whiskers and his nose twitched for an entire day.

 

This reminded him of Prongs getting stuck with antlers and himself finding his human-self covered in black fur.

 

He finished the can and started drinking another. Halfway through, he headed back outside. When he stepped out of the wards, he cast a Warming Charm on his hands and went for a walk among the birch trees.

 

It didn’t take long before he stumbled upon someone. Gnedykh. The grey tunic he wore was splattered with a darker colour, and before Sirius could speak, his nose picked up a strong scent.

 

Blood.

 

He rushed to the other man’s side.

 

“Are you alright? Is that your blood?” He looked around, frantic. What if Voldemort had found them? Or a magical creature? He cast a Lumos. The wound on Gnedykh’s neck looked cauterized and painful.

 

“Black,” came a raspy voice that was completely unlike Gnedykh’s: deeper, colder. “Your godson is a Horcrux.”

 

Sirius’ stopped breathing. “Wh-what?”

 

“The Dark One’s soul lives within the scar on his forehead. We must destroy it.”

 

There was a loud ringing in his ears. He didn’t remember using his wand and casting his Patronus, had no knowledge of whom he sent it to.

 

Andromeda, Ted, Nymphadora, Terence and Crowfeet Apparated in the clearing, wands up. Sirius blinked away bright spots in his vision and listened to Crowfeet who was now guiding him through breathing exercises. Through the buzzing and ringing in his ears, he heard Gnedykh repeat his terrifying news.

 

 _Focus. Harry needs you_.

 

Shaky on his feet but breathing normally, he gulped, idly noticing his can of beer on the ground. He Vanished it.

 

“What’s a Horcrux?” Tonks wondered aloud.

 

“A soul container. Soul Jar. Whatever you want to call it.” Sirius’ disgust was plain to see.

 

Terence looked sick. “Harry has a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul stuck to his head?”

 

“How did you find out?” Ted asked, frowning when Gnedykh coughed. “What have you done to your neck?” Crowfeet was busy casting Diagnostic Charms on the man.

 

The Russian teacher turned around and pointed at an area a few steps away. Terence and Sirius were first on the scene and stayed at a safe distance. The ground had been scorched. Runes were burned into the dirt, and a small pile of ashes stood in the centre. When Gnedykh spoke once more, his voice and demeanour were back to normal.

 

“I have known, from the moment I met Tonks, Black and Potter in St. Petersburg, that something wasn’t quite right. There was a lingering darkness in the air. At first, I dismissed it. Darkness can attach itself to anyone who spends a certain amount of time in a home like Black’s, and it was too faint to worry me. But when I first set foot into the hotel, it was much stronger. I believe the wards and lack of magic exacerbated it. I couldn’t pinpoint who or what caused it, though I was convinced it came from Potter.

 

“My family is old and specializes in Death Magic and Parselmagic. I have knowledge of rituals that would make a modern-day Necromancer weep in fear. One of those offers the absolute truth and tonight was the perfect moment to attempt it.

 

“I called upon the dead and offered the sacrifice they requested. They not only provided me with visions, but they also spoke through me. There’s no doubt: the Horcrux is real.”

 

Sirius used a nearby tree to keep himself from falling. “Parselmagic?”

 

“Did you really think there were only two Parselmouths in the world? I know four, aside from Harry and Voldemort. I do not speak it fluently. I was taught, and it is a language that cannot be fully understood if one is not born knowing it,” the Russian responded. Crowfeet pronounced the man healthy but insisted to drag him to the infirmary to take care of his neck. “This is not over!” Gnedykh added, his eyes burning in determination. “We _will_ find a way to save your godson, Black.”

 

 

***

 

 

Andromeda poured tea in everyone’s mugs, her black hair dishevelled. She even had grass and twigs intertwined with her long locks. “Do you think Dumbledore knows?”

 

Sirius nodded mutely, grey eyes staring at the clock in the dining hall. It was three in the morning. The students were asleep, and he didn’t know what to do. Keeping it from Harry would be the wisest course of action, but Harry didn’t need him hiding anything from him. This was a nightmare. You weren’t raised in the Black family without being taught about the darkest aspects of magic, and Sirius knew more than he’d liked about the monstrosities some magicians used in the pursuit of immortality. The Ministry erased all knowledge of Horcruxes, but Sirius’ ancestors still had their books.

 

The books!

 

“Kreacher!”

 

“Blood-traitor Master calls Kreacher so far away, yes, so far. Kreacher travels because he must, but what would poor Mistress say?”

 

A light bulb flickered. House-Elf magic was less likely to affect their surroundings, but it would be best if the ugly creature didn’t start cleaning. Not that he ever would, it was Kreacher after all. Sirius barely noticed Andromeda’s confused expression.

 

“Kreacher, go to my grandfather’s manor and bring me the books in his personal office.”

 

“Nasty Master asks Kreacher to violate the sanctity of Black Manor, what would Master Arcturus say? If only Nasty Master had taken Master Regulus’ place, oh, Kreacher would be so happy.”

 

“I don’t have time to discuss my brother’s failure. Do as I say.”

 

The Elf glared at him, shaking with the need to obey. “Master Regulus died, yes, Kreacher knows. Master Regulus was a good boy, always kind to Kreacher, always quiet, always respectful of his blood. Master Regulus didn’t fail. Master Regulus sacrificed his life to fight the Dark Lord!”

 

He popped away just as Andromeda’s cup shattered on the floor. Wide-eyed, both cousins stared at each other.

 

“When he comes back, you should probably order him to talk,” Tonks suggested wryly.

 

Sirius grabbed a cup of tea for himself and scalded his tongue with the dark liquid. He’d had too many shocks for one night.

 

“What kind of screwed up ritual requires slitting your own throat?” Ted muttered.

 

“The horrifying kind.”

 

“Not an answer, Sirius.”

 

Andromeda clicked her tongue. “Slitting your throat means giving a part of your life-force to whatever entity you’re trying to reach. He would have died if nothing answered.” She shrugged at her family’s expressions of disbelief. “My father had a book about it. He burnt it when Bella was thirteen and seemed a bit too interested in it.”

 

“This family makes me sick,” Sirius said with a shudder. The information meant a lot: Gnedykh, a Master of some of the darkest magic in existence, almost gave his life to figure out what was wrong with Harry, because he wanted to help. “Excuse me.” He pushed his chair back, refilled his cup, and went to visit the man in the infirmary for the rest of the night.

 

When Kreacher brought the five books Arcturus Black had carefully concealed in his office before his death, Sirius did his best to force him to talk, but the Elf was tight-lipped. He wouldn’t betray his last promise to his dear Master Regulus, at least not with the arguments Sirius was presenting. Too tired to figure it out, he dismissed the servant, and while Gnedykh was still sleeping, started reading a book titled _Soul Magic: The Forbidden Art_.

 

 

***

 

 

When dawn came on November 1st, a tired Harry found a note taped to the exterior of his door. Due to unforeseen circumstances, lessons for the day were cancelled, and the teens should enjoy their long weekend. Glad he hadn’t taken the time to change into his robes yet, he tiptoed into the corridor with Perseus in his arms and stopped in front of Draco’s room.

 

The events of the previous evening rushed back to his mind and he felt his cheeks burn. What was he supposed to do now? How was one supposed to date another boy? Not that he knew how to date a girl, either. What if he screwed up? There was no way he could ask Sirius for advice. The thought alone made him wish to hide under a rock.

 

Then he remembered the softness of Draco’s lips, and he wondered if the rest really mattered. Quietly, he pushed the door open.

 

Perseus meowed. In the semi-darkness of the room, Harry could make out the curled-up shape of his boyfriend (boyfriend!), and as he got closer, he snorted. This was the first time he had ever seen him asleep, without carefully combed hair. Said hair was sticking out so much, it looked like Draco had an unfortunate encounter with an electric outlet.

 

Harry placed Perseus on the bed. The cat roamed, stretched, and climbed on his owner before pawing at his face. Harry hesitated, then remembered the previous morning and thought Draco wouldn’t mind if he joined him, so he removed his slippers and lay down on the soft sheets. The Malfoy Heir managed to get Perseus off the bed, squinted at Harry, and opened his arms wide, a brilliant smile on his face.

 

Harry shuffled until his head was resting on the other boy’s chest and his body was held in a loose embrace.

 

Draco kissed the top of his head. “Morning.”

 

“We have the day off,” Harry muttered.

 

“Is that so.”

 

“I think they’re too hungover to teach.”

 

“Harry?”

 

The Boy-Who-Lived raised his chin and smiled at Draco’s soft, tender gaze. His heart seemed to want to beat out of his chest.

 

“Are we together?” Draco continued, and Harry couldn’t remember him ever sounding so unsure about anything. He slid higher on the bed and inverted their position, gathering a surprised blond in his arms and kissing his cute, pointy nose.

 

“Yeah,” he murmured, and removed his glasses to kiss him. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” he added against his lips.

 

With a chuckle, Draco shut him up, until all Harry could think of was how wonderful kissing him felt.

 

 

***

 

 

The paved sidewalk of the town centre was somewhat crowded in the afternoon. Terence, wrapped in layers of comfortable Muggle clothing, found himself intrigued by the way Susan’s hair caught the sunlight. She was only wearing a glamour on her face, not needing to hide from anyone.

 

She was one of these girls he never looked at, back at Hogwarts. She was too young, a Hufflepuff, and lacked the stunning beauty of Gemma Farley, Adelaide Murton or Zubeida Khan. No one turned around to keep watching her when they crossed paths with her. Not to mention, she wasn’t a Quidditch player, which until quite recently meant Terence didn’t even know she existed.

 

Ever since they both arrived in Norway, Terence noticed her more and more each day. She didn’t have Daphne’s icy beauty, Astoria’s classical and elegant features, or Millicent’s impressive, Viking-like stature (Millicent would one day crush someone’s head with the muscles of her thighs and they would greet death happily). She had freckles, straight, rather thin hair and very pale skin, and her face still possessed some baby fat that the young man didn’t find particularly attractive. Terence liked women who were at least the same age as himself, if not older, and if he had to choose a girl among the Hogwarts Fifth Years, it would be one of the Patil sisters. Or so he thought.

 

Susan might not be his type – he was indeed a somewhat shallow man, but there was a very good reason why Terence kept stealing glances at her. She often made him laugh hysterically.

 

Terence wasn’t someone who smiled easily, but he wondered if, perhaps, he was seeking happiness in the wrong place.

 

Glancing at Draco and Harry, who walked in front of him and seemed much closer than before, he thought he wasn’t the only one in an unusual situation. Sirius, who decided to accompany them for an afternoon of shopping (unofficially, because he wanted to drive them all in his new van), made it even more obvious, doing everything he could to avoid looking at them.

 

“Our teachers have been twitchy today,” Blaise observed, eyes lingering on a group of girls.

 

Millicent rolled her eyes. “They got drunk last night.”

 

“Nah. ‘s something else.”

 

“Professor Black doesn’t like seeing his godson growing up,” Astoria’s crystalline voice made everyone wonder what she knew until they started paying attention.

 

Daphne’s mask of indifference slipped. “You mean-”

 

“Merlin, I’m blind,” Theo mumbled.

 

“You spent all your time with them, and you didn’t know?!”

 

“Louder, Zabini, I think the penguins in Antarctica didn’t hear you.”

 

“You’re the penguin.”

 

Sirius snickered and moved towards them. “What’s going on?”

 

“We were just wondering why we don’t have lessons today, Professor,” the youngest student explained.

 

“There was an incident last night. We’re still trying to figure out what happened, but you’ll probably hear about it in class next week. In the meantime, don’t pry.” The man looked at Terence. “Can you keep an eye on everyone? I need to talk to Harry.”

 

“Draco’s a good kid, Professor. Don’t be too harsh.”

 

He could have sworn Black was now blushing. Interesting.

 

“That’s not- no. Don’t worry about that. I’ll be back in about ten minutes. We’ll meet you back here.”

 

The oldest Slytherin watched him go back towards the now confirmed couple. He guessed that Draco insisted to come with them because the trio left the busy street together.

 

While speculations ran rampant and Susan dragged them all into a souvenir shop, Terence realised Theo and Blaise were still arguing about penguins. He grinned.

 

“Blaise, I swear if I turn out to be a penguin Animagus, your mother will never find your remains.”

 

 _Please be one, I need to laugh,_ Terence thought to himself.

 

Unlike the Patronus, which he still couldn’t grasp, his Animagus Transformation was going well. The oldest student was a Lykoi. According to Daphne, who saw him transform, it was the ugliest cat in existence but that didn’t matter, he was absolutely delighted.

 

He found himself smiling once more when Susan laughed. He liked that sound. He needed to do something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who thought Gnedykh was a traitor in Chapter 9? :D


	11. Patronus

Toppy the House Elf was rarely seen, as expected from her kind. However, she started popping up around Harry quite often after the first snow of the year started falling, one day in early November. Draco, who never took his eyes away from the boy he fell in love with, started wondering what was going on when, for the third time, Harry followed the Elf to the school basement. As quietly as he could, he listened to his own curiosity and went after him.

 

After Sirius told them about the Horcrux, Harry tried to spend more time by himself. He withdrew from his new friends, though he didn’t push them away if they didn’t leave him alone. Thankfully, he quickly understood that Draco wasn’t going anywhere and stopped his attempts to avoid him. It was around that time that their relationship became common knowledge: Harry apparently decided that if he wasn’t going to be on his own, then he would stick to Draco’s side like glue. So, disappearing with Toppy seemed exceedingly strange for someone who could barely stand the idea of being apart from him.

 

Draco had sworn to do everything in his power to help with the Horcrux. He spent most of his self-study periods researching ways to remove the soul fragment without hurting his boyfriend and with every adult using their free time for the same purpose, they already had several rituals in mind. Gnedykh even volunteered to lead any ritual they wished to attempt. Draco admired the man immensely.

 

He found Harry in one of the storage rooms, in front of a pile of tree branches. Toppy was gone.

 

“What’s this about?”

 

Harry smirked. “Can’t live without me for a second, Draco?”

 

“Says the one who whined and played dead this morning because I needed the bathroom and you just wanted to stay in bed.” He looked around. The room was a mess, yes, but it was all crammed into a corner. What remained was the pile of wood and a thick table. Harry’s books on wandlore were stacked beneath it, on a low shelf. “Are you making a wand?” He picked up a book and leafed through its yellowed pages.

 

Shrugging, Harry scratched his head, then retrieved one of the branches. “Trying. Every wandmaker has a different method. I want to find my own if it works. I like the idea of creating something for a specific person, not making several wands and let someone pick the one that suits best. I’m sure there’s a way to attune a wand so perfectly that it will never give its allegiance to anyone else.”

 

Draco gave a half-smile, secretly impressed. Proud, even. Harry might not have realised it yet, but the blond was quite certain he had just found his calling. “Do you know where to start?”

 

“Carving. I’m just not sure how.” He observed the branch in his hand. “The books don’t seem to agree on the best method. Ollivander uses Muggle tools, Gregorovitch carves the wood with his own wand. There’s something I don’t like in both. No idea what. It just doesn’t feel right to me.”

 

Draco stopped looked at the book and focused on him, appreciating the passion in his speech and the gleam in his gorgeous emerald eyes. 

“I want to let magic decide,” he explained, running his fingers up and down the branch. “One book speaks of a method used thousands of years ago. It’s just a history book and it doesn’t explain much, only that it’s a lost art, but… I mean, if a wand is somehow alive enough to choose a wizard, isn’t it best if it builds itself, with the crafter being used as a catalyst or a guide?”

 

Almost giggling at his rambling, the Slytherin crept up closer and kissed his cheek. Harry barely reacted, only launching into more muttering. He was mostly talking to himself now.

 

“If I meditate, I should be able to become one with magic and direct it to carve, but also to choose which wood I should pair with which core. That’s why I’m learning about Ley Lines. It’ll be easier if I use their energy. Wouldn’t be Ritual Magic. Ley Lines exist to be used, or every single author since the earliest scroll of parchment is wrong.” 

 

Draco cringed. “Just be careful, Harry.” 

 

“I’ll have you to keep me in check, won’t I?” 

 

“I certainly hope so. So, you basically need to learn wandless, wordless magic. Not ambitious at all.” 

 

“Well… it’s not the same. My body would just be a conduit.” 

 

“Using your body as a wand is wandless magic.” 

 

“Is it? Oh. Yeah. Makes sense. Merlin, I’m becoming Hermione.”

 

This time, Draco couldn’t hold back his laughter. He even snorted and hid his face in his boyfriend’s messy mop of hair. He was so in love, it was crazy. Still holding the other boy, he waved his wand, and whispered: “ _ Expecto Patronum _ .”

 

A dragon. A massive, beautiful dragon that was too big for the room. He heard Harry’s breath catch and they both stared as a perfectly corporeal Patronus examined their surroundings for threats before vanishing.

 

“You did it,” Harry murmured in amazement. 

 

“It’s… it’s a Sea Wyvern.” 

He kissed Harry breathless. He felt invincible, powerful, and his father’s shadow was no more than a spec at the back of his mind.

 

 

***

 

 

That evening, in the freezing darkness of the gardens, each student cast their own Patronus. Astoria’s eight-legged friend scuttered into the night. Theo’s bat and Terence’s barely visible owl painted trails of light in the sky. Prongs nuzzled Susan’s cat and Blaise managed to make his peacock ride on Daphne’s horse. Draco’s wyvern towered over them all. Padfoot barked, jumping around, playing in the freshly fallen snow. Leaning against the wall of the school, Gnedykh’s eyes followed Harry’s shivering but happy silhouette. 

 

The glass door behind him slid open to let Andromeda out. “I see Terence and Draco figured it out,” she said, her breath leaving her lips in puffs of white vapour. “Terence needs to focus more but he’s nearly there. Dating Susan is helping.”

 

“We need to ensure he’s able to cast it in the presence of a Dementor.”

 

Andromeda tapped her lips with the tip of her index finger. “Harry used a Boggart in his latest session.” She frowned. “You’re using a Dementor for the Horcrux.”

 

“We have until Yule to get ready. I don’t want any minor around besides Harry, but we will need Terence.”

 

“What about Sirius?” She looked worried, with good reason, he thought. 

 

“He’s the one who found the ritual.”

 

Now her eyebrows rose in disbelief. Before she could protest, Gnedykh placed a hand on her arm to stop her. “Ted and Crowfeet need to be ready for any health issue. Your daughter and yourself will strengthen Lily Potter’s protection. I’ll deal with the invocation even if it kills me and Terence needs to take over if necessary.”

 

“You would die for a ritual?”

 

Laughing dryly, he shook his head slowly and pointed at his neck. “I’ve already done so. Borrowed time, Andromeda. Borrowed time.”

 

 

***

 

 

_ Mate, _

 

_ The Toad disbanded the Quidditch teams and put them back together with people she chose herself! I can’t believe someone could be so horrible and useless. She only put Purebloods on the teams and only those who have parents working at the Ministry. Or Junior Death Eaters. Gryffindor is not playing. That lump McLaggen punched Fred, but he’s the only idiot who wants to play. No concept of team spirit, that one.  _

 

_ Nobody showed up at the match two weeks ago. Well, the snakes and McLaggen did. McGonagall wanted to disqualify everyone but Umbitch just gave the match to Slytherin instead. _

 

_ Today, the Puffs and Claws simply didn’t show up. _

 

_ The Toad put both houses in detention. Old Flitwick looked ready to kill her. Don’t know if you get the Prophet but if you don’t, she declared herself “High Inquisitor”. She can basically make up her own rules and enforce them, and Dumbledore can’t do anything.  _

 

_ Everything’s crap. _

 

_ Anyway, wherever you are, you should be glad! _

 

_ R. _

 

 

***

 

 

_ Dear Pronglet, _

 

_ I’m sure Ron already ranted about Quidditch, so let me bring you some good news. Defence is still ridiculous but the club is thriving, I’m so glad! My Patronus is an otter. Thank you so much for all your help! _

 

_ Some of the older Slytherin girls are surprisingly nice - Ron can’t believe I even talk to them, but guess who he discussed Quidditch with yesterday? Adrian Pucey! He seems like a decent person. He didn’t rat us out, so I guess he is. _

 

_ I decided to use a sign-up sheet for every member of the DA (it stands for Defence Association. I wanted it to say Dumbledore’s Army but the Slytherins complained). If someone betrays us, they’ll get boils all over their face. I didn’t sign it, so I can write this down, don’t worry. _

 

_ Professor Snape is in a foul mood. He didn’t read my essay, just set it on fire and said it was too long. At least some things don’t change, but I’m quite frustrated.  _

 

_ I’ll rewrite it.  _

 

_ I’m looking forward to your next letter. Be safe! _

 

_ Love, _

 

_ H. _

  
  
  


***

 

 

_ Mione, R.,  _

 

_ Thank you for your letters. I don’t get the Prophet here. Not missing it one bit. And Merlin, what’s up with the Toad? _

 

_ There’s snow pretty much everywhere. I’m writing this in a cafe next to the local ice rink, so I can actually talk about what I’m doing at the moment. Joy. I went shopping with Padfoot for the Solstice (a certain someone I cannot name yet hates it when I don’t call holidays by their traditional names. He said I don’t have an excuse if I don’t follow a specific religion and still want to celebrate something the Wizarding way. I told him I’m celebrating both and he can choke on his traditions. He’s still getting a gift. I didn’t want to wait until his birthday). Can you tell I want to talk to you guys about the people I’m with? I really don’t like hiding things from you. Oh well, what can you do. _

 

_ He can’t ice skate. He has perseverance but he fell on his ass so many times already that I’m not sure how he can still move. Some of the others are fine, but one of the girls wisely decided to stay with me and laugh at them. _

 

_ I’m happy, guys. Not everything is easy and there’s something that scares me, but that’s just how things are.  _

 

_ Mione, congratulations on your Patronus! Did you ask a teacher for help by the way? Security for the DA seems a bit light. Does it prevent leaks or is it just reacting if someone speaks up? Does everyone know what happens if they do? Sorry. I don’t doubt your skills, so don’t take it the wrong way. I’m just doing a lot of thinking here. _

 

_ If I don’t write back in time, Happy Christmas to everyone! (YULE! I can hear him whine in my head. Help.) _

 

_ Pronglet _

 

 

***

 

 

_ St. Petersburg _

 

“This is the creepiest place I’ve ever visited, and Father took me to Knockturn Alley every year,” Draco drawled, sneering at the jars around him. 

 

_ Slízenʹ  _ was an Apothecary specializing in rare materials. Located between a Quidditch equipment store and a hairdressing salon, it stood out thanks to its revolting appearance. The facade of the building was bright pink with orange and green slugs painted around the door and windows. Inside, the same colours made Harry want to dig out his eyeballs. There were so many jugs and jars and Potions prep accessories everywhere that the shelves supporting them were struggling to stay on the walls. Though the place was spotless, it had the kind of vibe that meant they would scrub their skin in the shower after going back to Norway.

 

“You’d think Newt eyes wouldn’t bother us,” Theo murmured.

 

Millicent shuddered and looked up. “We use them in potions. We don’t stitch them together to  _ hang them from the ceiling _ !”

 

Blaise suddenly squeaked in fright and took several steps back. “Is that a freaking corpse?!”

 

Daphne turned around and ran out. Blaise watched her go, shook his head, and pushed the door open. “I’m out of here.”

 

“It is, in fact, a corpse,” said the willowy woman behind the till once the Italian was gone. She had scarily long fingers wrapped around an empty jar and was cleaning it with a pink rag. Her accent suggested she had, at the very least, studied English in the United Kingdom. “What can I do for you?”

 

The teenagers who hadn’t fled were standing close together, though Astoria was staring at the corpse with an expression akin to fascination. Harry suppressed his disgust, helped by Draco’s hand on the small of his back: “I’m looking for unusual wand cores.”

 

The woman stopped cleaning the jar and grinned, uncovering pointed teeth. In an instant, she was rummaging through the shelves, muttering to herself, Vanishing random items and regularly staring back at the glamoured teens.

 

“Try these.” She magically transferred Mandrake powder, Snargaluff roots, Dittany, Asphodel and a Thunderbird feather into different fabric bags and announced a price that had Draco wincing. Harry paid without fuss.

 

The group hastily made their way out, but the woman grabbed the green-eyed boy’s wrist. “If you do manage to create anything usable, come back to me. I can find ingredients more specific to wandmaking; all I ask is to be your main supplier.”

 

“Err, sure. I’ll come back.” He awkwardly left her side, relieved to get out in the freezing air.

 

“That was not disturbing at all,” Draco said.

 

Spying Terence and Susan coming out of a traditional Russian Wizarding bakery, Harry dragged him towards them, smirking at the besotted look on the older boy’s face. They were trying to be discrete but everyone had known they were together since their first date: Blaise, who had been looking for Frost Sprites on the Tranquil Spire domain, had stumbled upon their admittedly adorable meeting spot: a Conjured table under a Warming Charm laden with pastries and tea near a frozen pond, surrounded by dozens of lanterns casting intriguing figures on the snow. Forgetting the Sprites, the Italian had hurried back to the hotel and proceeded to tell absolutely everyone about the newest couple. Including Toppy the House Elf, who acted like Susan would soon be Madam Higgs.

 

 

***

 

 

Tonks, wearing her Auror robes, entered the dining hall with a tired sigh. She had spent the morning in London for an Order meeting where Molly Weasley had made her feel quite unwelcome, blaming her for keeping her mouth shut about Harry and Sirius and begging for details she wouldn’t give. She understood she was worried, but she didn’t agree with her reasons. Molly strongly believed that Sirius was not fit to care for a goldfish, much less a child. She thought they were off on a ridiculous adventure, and her shrill complaints about Sirius’ irresponsible ways and childishness still rang in her ears. She seemed convinced that Harry was a five-year-old kid who couldn’t tie his shoelaces by himself and needed constant mothering to make up for the Dursleys' neglect. Fed up, Tonks had decided to ignore her. She had no idea how strong Sirius was, how quickly he had matured. There was no trace of the crazed Azkaban escapee who still saw James when he looked at his godson. The man she knew was an excellent professor and emulated Fleamont Potter to be the best example of a father for an independent teenager. 

 

Dumbledore had spoken about the Prophecy and his worries that Harry would never be ready to face Voldemort. Once Tonks privately told him that Harry was making excellent progress in Occlumency, the infernal twinkle in the old man’s blue eyes came back in full force. He still asked her to share what she knew and if she had any idea where the Slytherins were, but she had an inkling he already knew they were hiding together.

 

She smiled at Miss Sundheim, who was reading a thick novel and barely returned her greetings and poured herself a cup of tea from the red Thermos on the long buffet table. She inhaled the glorious smell of Earl Grey and checked the time.

 

The children were in the Transfiguration classroom with Tonks’ mother at the moment. Terence probably had his daily healing study session with Crowfeet and Astoria used her early Friday afternoons to catch up on Defence. She was learning so fast that she now shared most of her lessons, in all subjects, with the older students. Tonks couldn’t help but be impressed by the discrete thirteen-year-old who made all magic seem effortless. Truth be told, each kid was talented in their own way, but Astoria certainly stood out.

 

Just as the clock struck three, Sirius stumbled into the room and made himself a cup of coffee. “You look like death warmed over.”

 

Tonks sipped her tea. “It’s the brilliant atmosphere at your beautiful house.”

 

“How did it go?”

 

“Well,” she leaned against the wall, “Kreacher doesn’t want to talk to me, so you’ll have to summon him again if you want answers. Order-wise, they’re still guarding the you-know-what in the you-know-where and they’re getting really frustrated by the noseless corpse’s lack of action. It was a useless meeting and Remus says hi.”

 

She remembered what she bought on her way back and handed him a small bag. She grinned like a lunatic when Sirius opened it.

 

He blinked in surprise and held a box of condoms between his fingers. “Why would you get me- oh, fuck.” 

 

She cackled. Inside the bag, besides the condoms, was a book titled  _ “The Little Wizard’s Talk: How and When” _ . She could barely hold it together when her cousin whined in distress, and she silently thanked Molly for indirectly giving her this idea. Her rant about Sirius being unfit to be a parent reminded her that Harry had a boyfriend and was sleeping in his bed, thinking no one would notice. 

 

She couldn’t wait to witness Harry and Sirius’ embarrassment, though she made a mental note to ensure Draco was educated himself. Madam Pomfrey still had those mandatory sex ed courses for Second and Third Years but they only covered heterosexual relationships.

 

Sirius would have a field day. It would help take his mind off the Horcrux matter, which loomed over them like the Sword of Damocles.

 

Merlin, she needed more tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not hate Molly Weasley. I think she’s a flawed individual - unsupportive of her children’s dreams (Fred and George), judgemental (Hermione, because of Rita Skeeter’s article, Fleur…) - but she’s not a bad person. I have a harder time accepting Ginny and Hermione’s reaction to Fleur than Molly’s. At least, Molly was worried about her son getting his heart broken, Hermione was just petty and completely out of character.
> 
> Gods know I love these books and characters but some of their reactions make no sense whatsoever (Harry’s behaviour towards his own son in Cursed Child is so immature that I can’t help but take it as a bad joke).
> 
> Mini rant over, hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	12. Yule Ritual

Harry had received an Acceptable on his Biology essay and had hastily retreated to his room before Sirius could tell him that he should have worked a bit harder. He wasn’t exactly in the mood, and his godfather would be worse. Tomorrow, they would yank a Horcrux out of his head.

 

No minor student except Draco knew what hid behind Harry’s scar, but even he was unaware of the preparations currently underway on a nearby beach. Harry wanted to tell him. He needed to, in case this was goodbye. Blinking back tears, he placed his essay in his desk drawer and looked at the snowy landscape outside.

 

There was no real sunrise anymore, not for a month already. Every single one of them struggled to adapt. They were exhausted. Sirius was seeing his mind healer almost daily as the constant darkness reminded him too much of Azkaban, and both Harry and Draco sought each other’s warmth even more than usual. It didn’t help that Draco kept receiving cursed letters from his father.

 

The blond buried himself in his studies to avoid thinking about his mother who would be spending Yule in the presence of the Dark Lord if the meaning of her cryptic letter were anything to go by. He was learning Norwegian with Miss Sundheim: that kept him occupied. Terence and Susan were always together, and Blaise liked to stare gloomily at the snow before pretending nothing was wrong. It wasn’t rare to hear him mutter to himself about the glory of the Italian sun, especially when he had to walk outside. Millicent, Theo and the Greengrass girls often found themselves seeking counsel from Andromeda, who had first-hand knowledge of what it was like to be rejected by her own family. Harry, when he wasn’t cuddling with Draco or spending time with his godfather, was attempting to build his very first wand.

 

This was one of the reasons for his A in Biology. He just couldn’t be bothered to write an essay on the differences between the digestive systems of non-magical horses, Unicorns and Thestrals when he had finally managed to connect his inner magic with a branch of Elm. He had felt life flowing through the wood: Toppy hadn’t simply cut off tree branches, she had preserved their magic.

 

By linking the wood’s energy to his own, Harry had made a breakthrough. Meticulously, in a process that took him an entire night, he had let magic itself swirl around the branch, carving it and polishing it until it turned into a perfect wand. Unlike Ollivander’s creations, the wood wasn’t varnished, and Harry intended to keep it that way: infinitely thin veins ran down the length of the wood, shimmering with raw power. He would be insane to cover these up. In its current state, the wand was unusable as it didn’t have a core. But it was a perfect shell and Harry hoped he would live long enough to figure out how to merge wood and core. He was still unsure how to choose the latter.

 

Which brought him back to his current situation, with his essay out of sight and his eyes resting on the Yule tree outside his window.

 

He didn’t want to know any detail about the ritual. He was resigned to his fate and to the consequences they learned about in their Dark Arts classes. If he survived this, Voldemort would pay.

 

The thought that he may very well be leaving his Draco alone in less than twenty-four hours made him sick. He collapsed onto his bed and hid his face in the pillows.

 

Not a minute later, he groaned as the mattress dipped under Draco’s weight.

 

He felt a soft kiss on his neck and a feathery caress on his back. He turned around, and pulled the other boy on top of him, squeezing him a bit too tightly. Draco laughed.

 

Harry committed the sound to his memory and breathed in the scent of his boyfriend’s expensive shampoo.

 

It was time.

 

 

***

 

 

Sirius closed the heavy volume titled _Soulless Husks: Why Dementors Suck, by Gregory Vance_ and glanced at the group of people in the classroom. “We’re here to review our plan for tonight one last time. If one of you doesn’t feel up to it anymore, too bad, because we can’t back out now.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. There was too much at stake. If Harry didn’t survive this ritual, Sirius wouldn’t be able to keep on living. Thankfully, everyone was just as determined as him. Tonks might very well be the only person who had reluctantly agreed to help, due to the nature of the magic and ritual involved. There was no doubt it would have consequences for each of them, Harry included. One does not dabble in the darkest of magic without paying a price for it.  

 

“Let’s recap,” he continued, unveiling the plan on the blackboard. “Vitaly will be chanting to prepare the area before we get there. Step one: I... remove Harry’s soul from his body and place it in the Potter Crest.” His voice caught in his throat and he blinked back tears. “Step two: we bind Harry’s body and Vitaly starts the Summoning Ritual, and the women renew Lily’s protection for the Crest. Step three: the summoned Dementor sucks out Riddle out of Harry’s body. Step four: we cast Patroni strong enough to drive it away while Vitaly wraps things up. Step five: we recall Harry’s soul.” He closed his eyes and exhaled, shuddering from head to toes.

 

“I’ll do everything I can to keep it inside the Crest,” Terence vowed. As a legal adult, he was the only student in the room.

 

Ted looked at Gnedykh and Sirius. “How much time do we have?”

 

“Only as long as Potter stays put,” the Russian replied. “Steps two and three can’t last more than a minute or two, we can’t risk the Horcrux becoming self-aware. Did you tell him?” he turned to Sirius.

 

“He’s- yeah, to some degree.”

 

“And you know what needs to be done if things go wrong?”

 

Stiffly, he nodded.

 

Andromeda squeezed her cousin’s shoulder. “Then let’s get this over with. Toppy!”

 

The House Elf appeared, excited as ever. “Madam Tonks called Toppy?”

 

Terence smiled and crouched down to be at her level. “We all did. We need your help.”

 

“Anything for Master Terence!” She vibrated with glee.

 

“In approximately one hour, we’ll gather the students in a classroom and get them to prepare biscuits and treats. They need to stay inside. Do whatever is necessary with your magic, and do not let them out under any circumstances. They might not even notice they’re locked in. Ward the door and windows. Harry Potter won’t be there. If they leave, they might die. Do you understand?”

 

Toppy squeaked. “Yes, Master Terence! Toppy will keep Master Terence’s friends safe.”

 

“Good. Try to keep them busy, if you can.”

 

“Toppy will!” She popped away.

 

Gnedykh looked at Sirius. In silent agreement, they nodded at each other. “I’ll go ahead and start.”

 

“Send a Patronus if you need us in the meantime.”

 

The Russian Apparated. Sirius exhaled slowly, then excused himself to go spend some time with his godson. His throat felt too tight; he had to fight against the part of himself that just wanted to take Harry away forever.

 

 

***

 

 

Tonks Apparated to an isolated beach North of the Tranquil Spire domain and let out a breath she didn’t realise she had been holding. She renewed the Warming Charm on her black outfit. The sea was calm, the sky clear. Careful not to slip on the frost-covered stones, she started walking along the waterline.

 

She heard the crack of more Apparitions behind her but didn’t turn around. She had been in many harsh situations as an Auror, had seen true horror when her team arrived too late to save a victim, but nothing had terrified her as much as the description of the ritual to come.

 

She heard her mother talk with Harry, doing her best to sound reassuring. The teenager kept quiet but, having discussed the ritual with him beforehand, Tonks knew he was just determined - even if he might be walking to his death. She admired him. So many things could fail, the worst being that Harry’s soul would escape the Potter Crest… or that You-Know-Who would possess his body and manage to escape. This couldn’t be allowed to happen.

 

They reached the rocky shoreline where Gnedykh waited for them. A large flat rock was illuminated by lanterns and glimmering runestones. The entire area was heavily warded. No one could Apparate in or out and it felt like a death trap. Behind the Russian wizard, Tonks spied a tear in the air, like a crack to another world. It glowed and pulsed with each word of the endless litany Gnedykh was whispering. Strange, otherworldly voices accompanied his and came from everywhere at once.

 

The flames inside the lanterns wavered.

 

Sirius hugged Harry and kissed his forehead. Then, like a well-rehearsed play, Harry disrobed, and each adult hid their face under the hood of their robes.

 

The teenager climbed on top of the flat stone when Tonks cast a Warming Charm on his body. She squeezed his hand and stepped back.

 

Sirius placed his palm against Harry’s chest and magic swirled under the wards. From where she was standing, Tonks didn’t hear what they murmured to each other, but she had to look away. She had to trust the ritual and everyone’s abilities tonight.

 

Terence’s hand joined Sirius’ above Harry’s heart. The younger teen closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath before wands were pointed at him and Gnedykh’s mutterings switched to a language Tonks didn’t recognize.

 

The shimmering tear in the air widened and a small, bright ball of light floated out of Harry’s mouth. It seemed to hesitate but soon vanished into the Potter Crest cupped into Ted’s hands. The older man ran to a circle of stones nearby and placed the Crest in the middle. Tonks and her mother glanced at each other, then sliced their palms with a Cutting Hex. They let their blood drip inside the circle without a word, and Ted cast a Protection Ward around them so they could stay there with Harry’s soul.

 

He then walked back to the other men and kept an eye out for the Dementor who would soon emerge from the breach behind the Russian, who was no longer chanting but maintained a steady grip on his wand.

 

Crowfeet cast a Diagnostic Charm and set up a Monitoring Spell to keep track of the boy’s health. “Everything looks good so far.”

 

“Where are we at?” Sirius rasped, his cheeks wet with tears.

 

“Blood protection ongoing,” Andromeda replied.

 

Terence stared at the body on the stone. “Ready on my end.” Ted agreed. They would be the first to use their Patronus.

 

Tonks healed the cut in her and her mother’s hand.

 

The air shifted.

 

“Something’s coming,” Gnedykh announced as the wind picked up speed.

 

The light dimmed and Tonks frowned. “The breach is getting smaller,” she observed, and dread pooled in her stomach.

 

Gnedykh’s eyes snapped open and he turned around at once. He started chanting again, and Tonks could pick up the urgency in his voice. She didn’t need to remember the steps of the ritual to know that this wasn’t supposed to happen.

 

Then Terence took a sharp intake of breath and Sirius swore. A powerful blast of magic sent them to their knees and disrupted the protective ward around the Crest.

 

Harry’s eyes opened, and his irises turned a malevolent red.

 

 

***

 

 

Astoria snickered at her sister’s complaints about having to make biscuits the Muggle way. Daphne hated getting her hands dirty and she was now discovering the joys of dough getting stuck under her fingernails. She was still getting the dough ready when everyone else was busy making a second batch or shaping the first.

 

Theo’s looked amazing and he was obviously having fun. Blaise and Susan only cared about the taste, so their biscuits were shapeless blobs on a tray and Millicent was staring dejectedly at her first attempt, which had been too ambitious. Patronus-shaped cookies, for a first timer? Theo had tried to stop her, but she was stubborn.

 

Astoria was working with Draco, who seemed out of sorts. She didn’t know if he had once again received a cursed letter or bad news, or if he had problems with Harry, but he was jittery and even scared. She saw it in his eyes, and in the way his hands shook when he attempted to cut the dough. He was making heart-shaped cinnamon cookies. The youngest teenager smiled but didn’t talk. She knew he wasn’t in the mood.

 

She was also aware that something was going on outside. Her magic was tingling, she felt a bizarre and unfamiliar pull, and while she was the only one who noticed, she wondered why they were on lockdown.

 

She was about to mix some more flour into her newest dough when she let out a sudden gasp. The pull was impossible to ignore. Her entire body shook and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She felt weak, drained before a surge of magic slammed into her and threw her across the room.

 

Yet no one reacted.

 

Shivering violently, she stood up and looked at her friends. They were still working more or less diligently, laughing or brooding… and she, herself, was cleaning up flour from her apron. Stunned, Astoria walked around slowly and even poked her own body. No one noticed her.

 

The pull was so strong now it almost hurt. She closed her eyes and followed her instincts: she let magic guide her.

 

It led her outside and she couldn’t feel the cold. She remembered she was walking barefoot in the snow and was aware that she should be concerned; she just couldn’t bring herself to worry.

 

The darkness was beautiful. She looked up at the sky in awe as streaks of green painted the night and danced under the stars.

 

The pull brought her to the densest grove around the domain, and she stopped walking when she saw the Thestral.

 

She didn’t understand. She had never been able to see them before, yet here he was, frightening but elegant, with a foal at his side. And Harry was right there with them, his hand on the leathery skin of the adult’s back.

 

The boy noticed her and smiled. “Hi, Astoria! Why aren’t you wearing shoes?”

 

“I’m not sure. Why are you not baking with us?”

 

He shrugged. “I woke up and I was there. Perhaps I sleepwalked?”

 

She took in his silhouette. He was wrapped in a dark shroud of mist and she could see right through him.

 

“Harry, where is your body?”

 

“I don’t know. Am I dead?”

 

There was an explosion of light in the distance and they both stared as it dimmed. When Astoria eyed Harry’s face, she understood that he, too, was feeling it. Evil. And somehow, she still knew she had to follow the pull.

 

“Come with me,” she said, taking his hand. It was solid but didn’t feel like skin.

 

Distance didn’t matter in the state they were in. They found themselves at the edge of a strong ward, on a rocky beach, with gentle waves washing over their feet.

 

Astoria felt Harry’s terror before she saw what made his hand tighten around hers. Under the warded bubble, a boy who wore her friend’s features was screaming in rage, shackled magically to the flat stone below him. Seven figures wearing black cloaks were scattered on the ground. Only one was moving, attempting to rise.

 

A hood fell back, and Astoria recognized Sirius. Harry called his name, but the man didn’t hear him. He stood up. The energy and anger coming from the boy created such a strong wind that he had trouble staying on his feet.

 

“This is me,” Harry choked. “What did I do?”

 

The answer came to Astoria as a certainty. “It’s only your body. Something else is inside.”

 

They stepped inside the wards.

 

Sounds they were until now deaf to swarmed them. Harry let Astoria’s hand go and moved towards the unconscious bodies next to a circle of stone. He picked up the Potter Crest from the ground while Astoria took advantage of their invisibility to check that their teachers were still alive. She recognized their magical signature and though one of them was fainter than normal, she was reassured. She turned her attention to the _thing_ inhabiting Harry’s body.

 

It was twisting on the stone, screaming itself hoarse. When Sirius advanced towards it, it seemed to calm down, only to smile coldly.

 

“Siriusssss Black,” it hissed, “untie me.”

 

The man sneered and adjusted his grip on his wand. “I think not.”

 

“If you don’t, he diesssss.”

 

“Too late for that, Voldy.”

 

“HOW DARE YOU!”

 

Sirius’ jaw clenched and his magic swelled in his fury. Astoria thought it was a heartbreakingly beautiful sight. She could not intervene. She was strangely detached from it all, only able to watch it happen and feel Harry’s terror.

 

“You’ve already killed him!” Sirius yelled, his voice shattering in despair. “He’s gone! I won’t let you have his body. And when I’m done with you, I’ll hunt down every last one of your soul shards and you will BURN!” He staggered and raised his wand.

 

“You are a fool!”

 

“ _Avada Kedavra_!”

 

The green light hit the shackled body. The creature’s magic exploded again, but Sirius held on. Hatred twisted his features and suddenly Astoria understood. A dam broke in her mind, bringing her knowledge of events she had never heard of.

 

When the first blast happened, Harry’s soul had left the Crest it was contained in. With this new explosion, the girl saw the outline of her friend becoming fainter and fainter.

 

“Harry! Hold on!” She was by his side in an instant, grabbing his wrist. He looked lost and confused.

 

Then a dark shape flew towards them. Astoria raised her hand, willing it gone. Fire enveloped it, consuming it as it let out an unholy shriek. She felt herself getting weaker.

 

As Sirius Black fell to his knees and let out the most anguished sobs she had ever witnessed, she turned back to Harry, and led him towards the stone where his lifeless body rested.

 

The boy couldn’t keep his eyes away from Sirius. Astoria forced him to focus. “Listen! You need to go back to your body! Do you want to leave him alone? Think about Draco!”

 

Harry blinked slowly. It seemed the longer he stayed away, the less aware he was.

 

“Draco needs me,” he murmured. “Sirius needs me.”

 

Astoria nodded quickly. “Go!”

 

Without a backward glance, he floated towards the stone, just in time: a second later, Astoria was pulled back into her body. She felt the dough on her fingers and heard Daphne rambling about her fingernails, Theo laughing at something Millicent said, and Blaise’s tone-deaf voice singing a ridiculous song.

 

 

***

 

 

Sirius’ screams were loud enough to wake up Terence, who took a minute to gather his bearings. He remembered when things went wrong, when the breach closed and no Dementor showed up. And Harry’s eyes… he stood up abruptly and gasped.

 

The devastation around him was a shock, but there was no time to lose. He ran to Harry’s side and cast a new Diagnostic Charm.

 

Dead.

 

“Fuck! Toppy!”

 

The Elf’s eyes widened when she appeared.

 

“Get the wards down and get help! Quickly!”

 

She snapped her fingers and vanished, the wards failing with her departure. Terence remembered the spells he learned with Crowfeet and pointed his wand at Harry’s heart. “ _Pulsus_ ,” he whispered. He ran his wand up and down his arms, legs, torso and neck. “ _Praeveho_.”

 

He repeated them, again and again.

 

A ball of flames landed nearby.

 

“ _Pulsus. Praeveho. Pul_ -” His breath caught when he raised his head and met the blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore.

 

The old man’s Phoenix flew around them. A wrinkled hand caressed the cold cheek of the dead boy, and he started casting silent healing spells. Terence saw no reason to stop his own casting.

 

Behind them, Sirius was still crying, this time in Andromeda’s arms. Tonks was helping her father sit up, and Gnedykh was healing Crowfeet.

 

Finally, Harry breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was exhausting to write. I feel like I’ve just run a marathon... and Sirius will need more therapy!  
> \---  
> I learned Latin at school, but I honestly don’t remember any of it (I feel so old), so the words I used for “beat” and “flow” are probably not the correct terms. Anyway, most spells in the HP universe are not correct Latin either.


	13. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for waiting! I recovered from the previous chapter :P

Albus Dumbledore was holding his cup of tea, his eyes twinkling, as usual, his face sporting a patient mask. He was looking around in mild interest when Tonks sat in front of him in the reception hall.

 

After sharing the Secret of the Tranquil Spire Hotel with him, the young woman was resigned. She would speak because she couldn’t very well tell Dumbledore to leave and forget what just happened. She knew that Sirius, who was sitting at the end of the table, face drawn, would be ready to hex the old man if he wasn’t under the effects of a powerful Calming Draught. Even Fawkes was perched far away from him: he was busy crowing at Vitaly, who was feeding him grapes and had thus become his new best friend. Andromeda was helping Ted and Crowfeet in the infirmary, and Terence was handling his friends - probably attempting to prevent Draco from rushing to Harry’s bedside.

 

“This place is quite nice,” Dumbledore thought aloud as if he hadn’t just helped a teenager come back to life in the middle of one of the darkest rituals in existence.

 

Sirius scoffed. “Glad to have your approval.”

 

“I would enjoy a tour, of course. But we should probably clear the air, starting with why a House Elf I had never met before, found it necessary to come to me for help.” He looked at Sirius, Tonks and Vitaly above his glasses, in this way that would make any student squirm with the feeling that they’d been caught pranking their teachers. “I also do not believe we’ve met,” he added nodding at the Russian.

 

There was a hint of pride when he answered. “Vitaly Gnedykh, Dark Arts and Potions teacher. Former Ritual Master and Soul Magic researcher at Durmstrang.” 

 

Dumbledore’s eyebrow rose so high they almost vanished into his hairline. “Quite impressive. We should speak later. In the meantime, I believe I need answers, Miss Tonks, Sirius, if you thought it necessary to resort to the Dark Arts,” he insisted genially. 

 

Tonks bit her tongue and started to explain the concept behind their school, what they wanted to teach, and their views on restricted curriculums. She told him how their methods had awakened a strong interest in studying from teenagers who were lazy at Hogwarts, thinking specifically about Harry. She didn’t name anyone but Dumbledore’s eyes shone even brighter.

 

“Am I to understand that you are indeed harbouring our wayward Slytherins? Perhaps even Miss Bones?” 

 

“You already knew,” Tonks crossed her arms.

 

“I strongly suspected. Mister Higgs’ presence was a good hint. We are getting ahead of ourselves. May I know what you were attempting to do?”

 

Sirius bristled. “Tell me, Albus… what wonderful plan did you have in mind to get rid of the Horcrux in Harry’s head?”

 

Tonks saw the twinkle dim, and Dumbledore’s hands shook as he placed his cup back on the table.

 

“How did you know?” the Headmaster asked, darting a glance at Vitaly.

 

The Dark Arts teacher scratched the Phoenix’s head. “Having me around helped, Headmaster.”

 

“You have no idea what you have done. You are sharing information that can cost us the war!” The Metamorphmagus couldn’t remember a time when Dumbledore had sounded so angry. He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone was chilling. Sirius stood up.

 

“Vitaly found out on his own,” he spat. “Were you intending to keep it to yourself?”

 

”There’s a reason for it, Sirius.”

 

“You planned to let him die. If he died by Voldemort’s hands... It’s the Prophecy, isn’t it? Tell me why I shouldn’t destroy you where you stand! I pointed my wand at my own godson and killed him myself, don’t think for one second that I wouldn’t turn against you! You know I can do it!”

 

Tonks inched closer to her cousin. There was a time for anger and it wouldn’t do to alienate the Headmaster before getting answers. She winced when Dumbledore asked Sirius to calm down.

 

“DON’T TELL ME TO STAY CALM! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT’S LIKE TO CAST AN AVADA KEDAVRA AT SOMEONE YOU LOVE!”

 

Dumbledore paled. “Sirius-”

 

“I know it wasn’t him anymore… I know it was Voldemort and that Harry was already gone, but I knew that by doing this I would ruin any chance of him ever waking up as himself- excuse me.” He left the room, cloak billowing behind him, head held high and tears burning in his eyes.

 

Dumbledore watched him go and Fawkes let out a chirp. Scratching her pink hair and sighing, Tonks sat back down and Vitaly followed Sirius, to make sure he was alright. None of them doubted how hard the ritual had been for the Animagus.

 

“We found a ritual to separate Harry’s soul from his body. Not unlike Horcrux-making, though without murder,” she started explaining. “Vitaly would summon a Dementor to suck out Riddle’s Horcrux, and we would put Harry’s soul back into his body.” She noticed the man looked pained, but was it because he didn’t think about it, or because of the method, she couldn’t know. “Things went haywire. Harry’s soul vanished, the Dementor never showed up, and Riddle possessed Harry’s body. Sirius killed him because there was no other choice at this point.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know what happened, or why Harry was able to be revived afterwards, but you, Terence and Toppy saved him.”

 

Dumbledore removed his glasses to rub tiredly at his eyes. “I didn’t know it would work. There was no time for explanations. The Elf only told me Harry Potter was dying, and it was enough for me. I believe she must have known he was still around - if he had been in his body when Sirius’ spell hit, or if I hadn’t been teleported by Fawkes, I doubt anything would have brought him back.” The bird played with his beard. “I’ll need both you and Sirius at the next Order meeting. The Prophecy might be void now, but Voldemort won’t know it. I am… glad, even if I would have preferred to avoid such a risky ritual.”

 

Tonks chewed on her lower lip, her hair changing from pink to black and back to pink in rapid succession. “We’ll be there. Headmaster, Sirius won’t forgive easily and there are more mysteries to clear up, but we are all grateful. However, there are still many things he will want to discuss with you.”

 

“Very well.” He put his glasses back on and drank his tea slowly. “If you don’t mind, I left Hogwarts in a hurry and should probably go back. May I have your authorization to visit after Christmas? I am curious, and Harry deserves an apology from me.”

 

She bit her fingernail, sighed and agreed. Fawkes landed on the man’s shoulder and in a blink, they were gone.

 

 

***

 

 

Draco hadn’t slept. He hadn’t even tried. His blond hair was dishevelled, his face paler than usual and his eyes red-rimmed. The previous day, after Harry left with every adult, he had almost been thankful to Toppy for preventing him (and everyone else) from leaving. He wasn’t brave and he wasn’t reckless, but for Harry, he could easily become a Gryffindor. Knowing his beloved would participate in a ritual to remove a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul from his head had been enough to understand the risks. He didn’t know the specifics. When they discussed it, Harry had tried to reassure him and hide his own fears, however, Draco knew him now and could read him like an open book.

 

So, deciding to trust the men and women, especially Professor Gnedykh, the boy had quietly obeyed Toppy’s orders: baking cookies. He shaped them like hearts, planning on giving them to Harry. They were now in a beautiful basket next to the clothes he prepared for today. 

 

Once the biscuits were cooked, Astoria asked to speak to him alone. He rarely talked with the younger girl and something in her eyes turned him into a nervous wreck. Somehow, he knew what it was about.

 

She told him Harry was safe but would be in the infirmary. He didn’t question her, just ran out of the hotel and into the school building - just in time to see his professors crowding the room and  _ Dumbledore _ casting several spells on an unmoving, dark-haired teenager. When Healer Crowfeet shut the door in his face, Draco’s hand twitched with the need to grab his wand and blast it open. Yet he just sat there on the floor, waiting for news. The fact that Dumbledore himself was there didn’t bode well.

 

It took almost an hour before anyone told him anything. In the meantime, Astoria and even Theo had joined him, and they were all asked to go back to their rooms and rest; Tonks said that Harry would be fine and they could see him the next day.

 

This didn’t sit well with any of them and Draco had to be dragged down the corridor. Back at the hotel, every teenager had been informed about an incident resulting in Harry getting hurt. Terence was with them, looking shaken but healthy. They shared a meal, though Draco didn’t eat much, and went to bed early.

 

This led to Draco spending most of the night watching the Northern lights through his window, with his cat sleeping in his lap.

 

The alarm clock on his nightstand indicated six thirty when he decided he had enough. Leaving a protesting Perseus on his bed, he dressed warmly with a grey cashmere sweater over several lighter layers, beige trousers and a navy scarf, quickly combed his hair - not caring what they looked like, for once, but he still managed to look striking if one didn’t pay attention to his face - and left the hotel while everyone else was still asleep.   

 

The cold outside was biting. The snow creaked under his Dragonhide boots, half of it covered in ice, and the wind made him shiver violently. His nose was red and hot by the time he reached his destination, and he cursed himself for forgetting to cast a Warming Charm. He was too exhausted to think about using magic.

 

There was a stabbing pain in his throat as he fought against his need to cry when he stepped into the infirmary and sat on the chair by Harry’s bed. The boy looked peaceful in his sleep, bundled up under his quilt, with his hair all over the place and his long lashes caressing his cheeks. Gently, Draco brushed his hair away from his forehead and placed a kiss on his scar. It looked less like a fresh scratch and more like a decade-old scar should, and it disturbed him slightly. He thought Harry would be delighted if it vanished completely.

 

He placed his lips on it again and kept them there, savouring the fact that he was alive. As angry as he had been yesterday, ready to yell at Harry as soon as he woke up and blame him for putting himself in danger and worrying him so much, he knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stay angry at him.

 

Softly, he caressed his hair and his face and dragged the chair closer to the bed. His hand slithered under the quilt and he wrapped his fingers around Harry’s palm, ready to wait until the other boy woke up. 

 

Only a few minutes later, he was sound asleep, hunched over in his chair, his face resting on the mattress.

  
  


***

 

 

When Harry woke up, he felt like he could gladly go back to sleep for an entire day. He was so comfortable under his heavy blanket! Did he need to go to class? He blinked his eyes open, surprised to find the room bathed in a soft, warm light. Did he forget to turn it off? He had to admit it was nice to be greeted by something other than complete darkness. 

 

His reflexes were slower than usual when he attempted to scratch Perseus’ fur, but he didn’t find the cat next to him. Did he have an accident with the Elm wand? With a groan, he turned on his side and looked for his glasses. They nearly fell from the nightstand. He caught them just in time. After placing them on his nose, he realised he was in the infirmary.

 

His memories of the ritual came crashing down on him and left him dizzy. His fists clenched on the pristine sheets. 

 

He remembered the stone under his body, Gnedykh’s litany, Sirius and Terence’s hands on his chest, and then… then everything was hazy and made no sense. There were strange horses with bat-like wings - Thestrals, his mind supplied - lurking between the trees, and the snow made no sound under his feet. The Northern lights moved in the sky. He remembered Astoria and how she made a shade of Voldemort burst into flames. 

 

And then… he had died, hadn’t he?

 

He turned to his left and warmth spread through his body at the sight of Draco, drooling over the mattress. He shook his shoulder. Draco’s eyes snapped open. There was a storm brewing in them, but the boy only muttered a nonsensical string of words before launching himself at Harry, who fell back on the bed in surprise. 

 

The only things the black-haired teen could understand when his boyfriend’s mouth was busy peppering his neck with kisses were “You- why- scared- how could- Harry- never again”, and he felt horribly guilty when he guessed that the wetness against his skin most likely came from tears. So, he rubbed circles against Draco’s back, keeping him in a tight embrace, as tight as possible when the quilt was in the way. He didn’t care if his muscles ached. Draco smelt like home.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and Draco only grunted in reply. A quick glance towards the door showed him that Sirius stood there, sickly pale and dying for a hug, which he couldn’t give him when Draco was sprawled over him. He waited, kissing the top of the blonde’s head when it seemed like he wasn’t crying anymore, then giving a half-smile to his godfather.

 

The man cleared his throat. “Tell me I’m not too late to tell you all about safe sex?”

 

Harry felt his cheeks burn. He groaned in dismay, Draco nearly fell off the bed in his haste to appear less overwhelmed by his emotions and Sirius smirked. Harry could tell he lacked his usual swagger and the glimpses he remembered about last night explained some of it. His godfather was hiding behind a mask at the moment. Unfortunately, that mask was his “Teacher of Essential Things” persona.

 

“So?” he repeated, to Harry’s mortification.

 

He knew how things worked. Well, he guessed. Madam Pomfrey hadn’t been very thorough aside from teaching them the anatomy of the female and male body, the mechanics of sexual intercourse between men and women, and spells to prevent illnesses and pregnancy. Harry was also unable to rely on his family for more details, as Uncle Vernon’s speech when he was in Third Year had simply been, “if you get someone pregnant, don’t even think about coming back here”. So, he had to listen to his dorm-mates. Which was fine, until the day he realised that Dean had not, in fact, shagged a Ravenclaw in an empty classroom, since Neville had innocently revealed that on that day, said Ravenclaw had been busy with her girlfriend near the greenhouses. As far as he knew, no one in their dorm had any experience in Fourth Year.

 

It also served as a reminder that Harry still knew nothing about sex with other boys. He had been too ashamed to ask anyone. Sure, he knew what felt good and figured it would be easier to please someone with a similar body, but he was also quite certain there was more to it than what he had already attempted on himself - and what Draco and himself had discovered, albeit always fully clothed.

 

“We’re fine, we’ll just… get some books or something,” he replied, and Draco nodded eagerly.

 

“I’m very sorry to tell you that you’ll do nothing of the sort.”

 

Harry bit his lower lip, wishing he was still asleep. “Really, you’re doing this now?”  _ I just died and came back to life  _ didn’t leave his mouth.

 

Sirius hesitated, then something broke in him and the Talk was forgotten: the man rushed to Harry’s bedside, hugged him, and didn’t let go until Crowfeet asked to examine them both.

 

Draco didn’t let go of Harry’s hand for the entirety of the spellcasting, and the Healer pronounced Harry healthy, and Sirius in need of another Calming Draught.

 

 

***

 

 

“Merlin, that was so awkward,” Harry murmured a short time later, entering the reception hall with his arm around Draco’s waist. The blonde was still blushing but he looked less like death warmed over. "Everyone has a different coping mechanism I suppose," he drawled. Harry grimaced at the thought.

 

Terence waved at them from his spot near the window, that he was busy decorating with garlands. “Harry! We missed nearly all the decorating fun yesterday.”

 

Blaise, still wearing his pyjamas, was covered in glitter and Daphne seemed to think it was hysterical. 

 

Millicent turned on the lights on the tree outside and closed the sliding door. “You definitely lost the chance to witness Daph trying to tame her new enemy: cookie dough.” 

 

“It was very sticky,” Susan agreed from her spot on the sofa.

 

They had refurbished the room to make it cosier. It now looked like just as messy and comfy as the Gryffindor common room, but in more flattering colours - a mix of brown, teal, beige and white that went quite well with the wooden floor and walls. There were throws, giant knitted pouffes and cushions scattered around the room and the various couches offered a level of comfort that was perfect to relax. 

 

Harry looked around and Draco dragged him to the biggest, fluffiest pouffe. They both fell back on it. “Where’s everyone?”

 

“The Tonkses and the Squibs went back home for the holidays. Gnedykh is in Russia, said he needed to rest, so we only have Crowfeet and Sirius with us until New Year,” Millicent explained as she sat closer to them. “Oh, and Toppy of course.”

 

Harry nuzzled Draco’s neck, trying to ignore Astoria’s strange behaviour. She stood in front of the windows but didn’t move and barely responded if someone spoke to her. Terence acted cheery and carefree but he kept glancing at him and Harry couldn’t blame him for it. If he had been part of that ritual in any other way, he would also want to make sure everyone was alright.

 

“Dumbledore was here yesterday,” Blaise said, sitting down and putting glitter everywhere.

 

A garland of fake berries fell and slapped Terence’s face, resulting in Draco smothering giggles in the crook of Harry’s shoulder. Theo snickered and helped the older boy sticking it back above the door.

 

Daphne gathered some glitter from the floor and threw it at her sister. “Tori, what’s wrong?”

 

The youngest girl turned around, smiled and brushed her long dark hair with her fingers, before braiding it quickly and sauntered towards them, any sign of weirdness gone from her eyes. “Nothing! Just excited for Yule.” Harry still sought her gaze until she gave a short nod, a silent understanding that they needed to talk later.

 

An hour later, Toppy arrived with Sirius and Crowfeet, carrying plates of food without magic. Harry gently pushed a protesting Draco and rose to help them, while Theo took this opportunity to vanish into the kitchen looking for drinks. Soon the square table in the middle of the room was covered in small sandwiches, nuts, olives, savoury pastries and dips. Theo brought every drink they had stored in the fridge and most teenagers grabbed a Butterbeer or pumpkin juice. Harry enjoyed a glass of blueberry juice he had fallen in love with after a weekend excursion in Helsinki, and both Sirius and Terence drank a Muggle beer. The Healer was examining a bottle of coke - to be exact, he was frowning at the ingredients, and started ranting about sugar. 

 

Sirius raised a toast. “Well, it’s a bit unorthodox to do this now and not yesterday evening but, happy Yule! I’m delighted to be here with all of you, to teach you everything I know, and I wish you peace. Be well.” 

 

“Be well,” most of the voices echoed. Harry felt slightly awkward, like he was intruding in a celebration he knew next to nothing about.

 

They exchanged gifts in the form of fruits, cookies or homemade biscuits. Upon receiving the heart-shaped ones made by Draco, Harry dragged him under the mistletoe in a corner of the room and kissed him breathless, his heart swelling with love. He forgot the world around them; there was only Draco’s warmth against him, the taste of fresh orange on his lips and the little noises he let out when Harry deepened the kiss. Gone were the remnants of fear and death, the freezing cold of the ritual stone and the fact that without Astoria, Terence, Sirius and Dumbledore, Draco would have been left alone. Gone were the anger against the Ministry and his nightmares. Harry enjoyed the moment and begged for reality to stay away just a little while longer.


	14. First Consequences

Christmas morning brought an unexpected visitor from England. Draco, who didn’t celebrate Christmas at home but understood he would be getting gifts regardless, was already awake and nursing a cup of hot cocoa on his and Harry’s favourite pouffe. He was wearing one of Harry’s sweaters and Perseus was sleeping at his feet.

 

The few days between Yule and Christmas had been surprisingly uneventful. Sure, Harry was clingier in his sleep and more affectionate the rest of the time, not that Draco was complaining, but there was a certain peace around him as well: the black-haired teen was calmer, quieter, and laughed easily. His scar was almost completely gone. Everyone else strongly felt the holidays spirit and Draco loved it.

 

He liked the silence created by heavy snowfall. He liked the perpetual smell of pastries or comfort food that either Toppy, Theo or Harry prepared in the absence of Miss Sundheim and Mister Hammer and he enjoyed watching the various candles, decorations and lights covering every available surface of the first floor. It reminded him of his Second Year at Hogwarts, when he spent the holidays away from the Manor (and checked every gift under the Christmas tree to keep the best for himself, but nobody would ever know, would they?). It had been his first Christmas experience and he hadn’t found it much different from Yule. He didn’t dive into its meaning until later and he had then been unnerved by the appropriation of his own traditions. It didn’t matter to him that much anymore, but he still insisted that Harry call holidays properly.

 

It was fun, harmless banter.

 

Perseus meowed when the door opened and revealed none other than Remus Lupin.

 

“Someone’s up early. Did Harry hog the blanket?” Sirius smirked from behind the Werewolf. “Morning, Cousin.”

 

Draco stood up. “Good morning. Professor Lupin? Are you here for the holidays?”

 

Sirius snickered and muttered a barely-audible “Professor Moony” that went over Draco’s head.

 

“I’m actually taking Tonks’ spot for a while. She can’t justify staying away from the Ministry for too long anymore,” the man replied.

 

Draco frowned and left his cup on the table. He understood there was a hidden meaning behind these words.

 

“I’d rather explain it all at once, if it’s no trouble,” Lupin continued.

 

“I’ll ask everyone to come for breakfast,” Sirius announced before turning into Padfoot and running out of the room.

 

Uneasy under the Werewolf’s gaze that sometimes flashed golden, the teenager started petting his cat, then rose and moved towards the dining hall, Lupin on his heels. Toppy, grumbling in a very uncouth manner for an Elf, brought a large breakfast. She seemed frustrated at having to avoid magic, but after a lightbulb exploded recently, she hadn’t tried to test the limit of House-Elf magic versus Muggle environment again.

 

Soon after, the sound of numerous rapid footsteps tumbling down the stairs reminded Draco that his nice, peaceful morning was over.

 

“How have you been, Draco?” Lupin asked kindly. The teen didn’t mind him; he was the only Defence Professor worth anything at Hogwarts and he didn’t fear Werewolves as much as some people. No one had been bitten during his tenure. Surely that indicated a strong mind and Draco could only admire him for it.

 

He didn’t exactly squirm but being in the presence of someone so important to Harry was still quite stressful. “Fine,” he answered softly, eyes down.

 

“I heard that you-”

 

The door opened and the awkwardness was broken by Blaise’s voice. “God rest ye merry gentlemen let nothing you dismaaaay!”

 

Millicent followed close behind and hit the back of the Italian’s head. “Shut up Zabini.”

 

“You’re all heathens.”

 

“Says the one who still practices Roman Paganism.”

 

“I’ll let you know, dearest Millie, that it’s not as uncommon as you think in Wizarding Italy. Some of us are proud of our roots. I can-”

 

“-trace your family back to the early days of Rome, yes, we know,” Daphne huffed.

 

Harry rolled his eyes, glanced at Draco and blew him a kiss. Then he ran to hug Lupin. There was no spike of jealousy but still, Draco wanted a hug too.

 

He got one a minute later when Harry sat with him. “Slept well?” he asked, and Harry kissed him on the cheek before pouting and declaring: “I woke up and you were gone, you made me sad.”

 

“Did I?”

 

Daphne cooed at Perseus while everyone else greeted their old (and new) Professor. Sirius told them that Crowfeet was gone for the day but would be back in the evening, and what were they all waiting for, Toppy had outdone herself with the food and they should dig in.

 

Lupin, whose hair was greyer than Draco remembered, drew everyone’s attention once they were comfortably seated. “Tonks told me you’re not getting the _Daily Prophet_ , so I’ll summarize the situation: there’s a special unit of Aurors assigned to find you all. There’s an impressive reward for civilians who know about your whereabouts so make sure to always wear Glamours outside the Fidelius. So far, they’re only searching in Britain, but it won’t be long until they turn their eyes to other countries. Mister Higgs, you are the only one the Ministry cannot search for due to your age. Harry, you are wanted for questioning and there’s an Obliviators squad waiting for you if you get caught.”

 

He took a sip of his pumpkin juice and looked at Sirius. “Fudge ensured that the Wizarding World would believe that you abducted Pureblood children for ritual sacrifices - you’ve been painted as utterly unhinged, more than usual that is.”

 

Draco shuddered at the idea and a flicker of anger appeared in Harry’s eyes.

 

“I didn’t expect anything else,” Sirius replied with a shrug.

 

“The _Prophet_ is filled with slander, nothing new here. Fudge is still denying Voldemort’s return.” At that most teens flinched, Draco included. “The Death Eaters are laying low and that’s all I can tell you about it. You’ve all heard about Dolores Umbridge by now: Hogwarts isn’t in good shape. A First Year Muggleborn has been withdrawn from school by her parents already.”

 

From what Weasley and Granger said in their letters to Harry, the Malfoy Heir had no trouble imagining what was happening. Putting Purebloods on the Quidditch teams, giving unfair detentions to Half-Bloods, Muggleborns and any student whose skin colour seemed to _offend_ the Toad… She wanted to purge the Wizarding World and Draco wondered if she was actually a Death Eater. The latest letter he’d read explained how she now had the right to control, evaluate and fire teachers if they didn’t meet the requirements set by the Board. This was not simple interference any longer, or an excuse to keep an eye on Dumbledore. The Ministry was slowly taking over, and it disgusted him.

 

“Now, there’s worse, and I’m sorry to tell you that on Christmas morning. Amelia Bones has been fired. To be exact, she was put on leave without pay for an undisclosed period of time. We don’t know who will replace her yet.”

 

Susan’s fork clattered against her plate. “What happened?” She blinked owlishly while the Slytherins exchanged nervous glances, and Harry tensed.

 

“She tried to charge Lucius Malfoy with endangerment of a minor.”

 

Paling, Draco lost his composure and fidgeted with his napkin, calming down only when his boyfriend started rubbing his back. He concentrated on the pressure and the warmth of his hand and mentally cursed his father. Madam Bones was their strongest ally, why did she throw everything away? As if he had read his mind, Lupin answered his question: “Lucius has too much power right now. He’s now Fudge’s primary advisor and has complete control over the Board of Governors. When the First Year was withdrawn from school, he drafted a law requiring immediate Obliviation of any Muggleborn who leaves Hogwarts before their NEWTs.”

 

Outraged whispers broke out.

 

“He wants to make sure they’re leaving our world before having any time to enrol in another magical school,” Draco spat. Any remaining feeling he might have harboured for his father, out of obligation or simply because he was his family, was completely gone. He plotted. Draco Black was sounding better and better.

 

Lupin nodded. “The law will be put to a vote soon. Unfortunately, with the current state of the Wizengamot, I’m afraid it’ll pass. Amelia attempted to stop Lucius and the only way was to charge him for the dark spells in his letters to Draco. Fudge dismissed her concerns: he considers that a parent has every right to discipline his child as he sees fit and that in that case, the spells were intended to hurt Draco’s kidnapper. I know it doesn’t make sense.”

 

“Can we kill him?” Terence asked, solemn but with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

 

“Lucius or Fudge?” Harry snickered.

 

“Both, please.”

 

Draco sniffed, grabbed a crêpe filled with jam and whipped cream and vigorously bit down on it. Without his mother’s weekly packages of treats, he needed his sugar fix.

 

Susan asked where her aunt was, and they were told she would visit them soon. With Tonks back at work, they still had someone to give them news of the Ministry, but nobody doubted that things had just taken a turn for the worst. Draco hoped Umbridge would make a mistake that would end her reign at Hogwarts.

 

Lupin was discussing a recent article in the _Prophet_ when a box of Muggle cereals flew into Harry’s hand. The lights dimmed briefly. Did he just…?

 

Silence fell. Harry filled his bowl with cereals and milk before realising that everyone was looking at him. He turned to Draco, who blinked in disbelief. “Harry?”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Did you summon that wordlessly and _wandlessly_?” His voice rose to a squeak.

 

Harry looked around and blushed. “I- what?”

 

Sirius was smiling widely, and Draco was now speechless. He had done this with such ease, without even thinking about it, while he usually needed coaxing to use magic in his everyday life - it was incredible! Harry didn’t seem to think so though, and Draco heard him groan under his breath about “freakish stuff” and “why is it always me”. He winced and tried to keep his anger in check. The Dursleys. Of course.

 

He gently placed a hand on his boyfriend’s knee to ground him and he stood up once he was sure Harry wouldn’t panic. “I forgot to close the window this morning, I’ll be right back.” He walked a few steps and turned around to face the table again. “Harry? I’ll need your key.”

 

A glimmer of understanding shone in his green eyes and the younger teen followed him, trying not to hurry. When they reached a safe distance from the dining hall, Harry’s hand closed around Draco’s and he dragged him into a corner. Draco’s heart ached: he looked worried and dejected. The blonde kissed him and let his fingers draw random patterns on his arms to soothe him.

 

“You’re not a freak,” he murmured, holding him close. “You’re my Harry and you’re amazing and I’m sorry that those pathetic, worthless bastards were allowed to even look at you.”

 

Harry buried his face against Draco’s neck. “I just want to be normal. I didn’t even notice I was doing it, I just needed cereals.”

 

“Well, wordless magic isn’t rare, I think it’s Sixth Year material and I’ll catch up with you, I swear! Wandless is a different story, but you know who else can do it?”

 

Harry shook his head.

 

“Dumbledore. And Dumbledore is not a freak, is he? He’s weird, but a good weird.” _Except when he leaves a baby with abusive relatives and never checks up on him._

 

A small snort coming from the other boy reassured him slightly, but he didn’t let go. “That’s not all,” Harry continued. Curious, Draco kept quiet. “I know things I hadn’t even heard of until Yule.”

 

There was a joke on the tip of his tongue because Sirius had indeed managed to give them the Talk after Harry was released from the Infirmary, but Draco decided to keep it to himself. Drawing a shaky breath, Harry shuffled even closer. “I didn’t need to research anything for my Transfiguration essay. When I started writing it, I just knew everything, and I’m sure we didn’t cover it in class.”

 

Interesting. “Do you think you just heard about it and forgot?”

 

“That’s what I thought, but how do you explain that I know how to brew Veritaserum? Or the Drink of Despair? Merlin, I didn’t even know this potion existed until a few days ago.”

 

At that, Draco relaxed his hold on him and stepped back to look at him. Harry and Potions were definitely not friends and he wouldn’t trust him to brew anything above their current level without supervision, even if he had gotten much better thanks to their teacher. As for the Drink of Despair… the name rang a bell, but he had to admit he had no idea what it was. “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean that if you ask me to brew them right now, I can do it.”

 

Draco’s mind was reeling. “Alright.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Anything else?”

 

“Not at the top of my head, no. It just comes to me randomly. Like when you just understand stuff, so you don’t need to think about it. Draco, something’s really wrong with me.”

 

Harry looked dejected and the blonde hated it. The boy who ran head first into danger and refused to bow to the Dark Lord shouldn’t fear his own power. Something was niggling at the back of his mind though. “Wait, I’ll just… _Expecto Patronum_!”

 

The lightbulb above them exploded. Toppy appeared in front of them and started berating them for causing an outage in the kitchen, but Draco was too busy asking his giant Patronus to fetch Sirius (yes, he was too lazy to walk back into the dining hall. No, he wasn’t sorry).

 

Harry burst out laughing. “Can you imagine if a real dragon tried to fit through the door?”

 

With a smirk, hiding his relief at his sudden mood change, Draco remembered when Perseus became too big to fit under the wardrobe but was too stubborn to stop trying.

 

Padfoot came running, jumped on Draco and licked a long, disgusting line across his cheek. “Nooo Sirius get off!”

 

Harry was now holding his sides and trying to breathe through his laughter. He could work with that. Not that he appreciated dog slobber, but if it helped his boyfriend feel better, he could handle it. Turning back into his Human form, Sirius listened as both teens briefly explained Harry’s strange insights. He then declared he needed to test a few things and asked them both to put on their coats and meet him in the Duelling room.

 

 

***

 

 

Sirius stared at the dummy. Or rather, at the smoking remnants of a disintegrated one. The Duelling room was equipped with a system to make the dummies react to a certain level of ability and spell repertoire, allowing everyone to progress at their own rhythm against an opponent of similar skills. After setting the dummy to Harry’s level from the past week, the boy pulverized it with a bone-shattering curse. One that was not on the Hogwarts curriculum or part of Auror training. With a _Reparo_ , the dummy was ready for more, with a higher power. Much higher. The duel ended after five minutes, and Sirius thought he had just dreamed it all.

 

“That- Pronglet, that was _Fiendfyre_ ,” he blurted.

 

The boy’s wand hand flinched, and he looked at the dummy with magic swirling in his green eyes. He seemed so scared that his expression broke the man’s heart. He moved closer and hugged him, vaguely noting that Draco was standing nearby, shocked and white as a sheet - but he was almost vibrating in excitement.

 

“What’s wrong with me?”

 

“Harry, you’re fine. I’m sure of it. I think I know what’s going on.”

 

Draco’s surprise was replaced by his usual mask when he spoke: “Riddle possessed your body, didn’t he?”

 

The Animagus watched as Harry nodded. Yes, Draco understood as well. Dark upbringings did have advantages, the possible and various effects of possession weren’t exactly standard knowledge. Possession itself was still believed to be impossible in most circles.

 

“Can you still speak Parseltongue?” Draco continued.

 

Harry frowned and replied that he needed a snake for that, but Sirius didn’t conjure any. He merely asked him to try.

 

The hisses that followed made him want to cringe, but he kept a straight face. Thankfully, Harry didn’t seem bothered by it, merely impressed at his own capabilities. Sirius guessed he had Gnedykh and his Dark Arts theory lessons to thank for allowing him to accept Parseltongue as a gift.

 

No longer on the verge of panic, his godson stepped back until he was close enough to hold Draco’s hand. “What does that mean?”

 

“We’ll ask Vitaly when he comes back, just to be sure,” Sirius said, “but I think you stole Voldy’s knowledge. You were always powerful, so I don’t believe there were any changes to your magic. Possession is extremely rare and doesn’t end well for the vessel in most cases, so there are very few testimonies, but old and Dark families have old stories to tell at the very least. Kreacher used to read an alleged account from a survivor as a bedtime story for Regulus and I.” The memory disgusted him. His parents were insane. “An ancestor who was travelling to Wizarding Persia was possessed by a spirit that was ultimately driven out of his body. When he came back to himself, he could only speak Classical Persian. He lost all knowledge of English and knew spells and rituals he had never heard of.”

 

“Basically, you kept some of Riddle’s memories,” Draco added.

 

“I didn’t!” Harry exclaimed. “I would know everything about him otherwise.”

 

“We don’t know how it works, what can be kept and what is lost. But, Pronglet, I think it’s great.”

 

His cousin smirked, elbowing his boyfriend. “It’s hilarious that Riddle handed you everything he knew on a silver platter. Just imagine how pissed off he’d be if someone told him.”

 

Hesitating, Harry looked at the dummy, then at Draco, then back at Sirius. “I guess…”

 

Sirius smiled. “It’s not like he gave you his own power and abilities. You can speak Parseltongue fluently because your brain remembers how to do it, but it’s no longer due to the Horcrux. Voldy just allowed you to get your OWLs and NEWTs early. When you hissed, were you aware that you were doing it?”

 

“Yes. That’s weird. Usually it just sounds like English in my head.”

 

“It’s acting like a language you learned, not one you were born with anymore.”

 

Sirius turned away from the couple as soon as he heard Draco’s awed “You’re so incredible”. He had no wish to see them kiss again, thank you very much. Hopefully it would be easier for Harry to accept his new knowledge if he took it as a slight against Voldemort, and not as an indication that he was going Dark.

 

He hurried back to his office near the Defence classroom to write a letter to Vitaly.


	15. Hippogriff Feather

Without the Horcrux in his head, Harry felt lighter and happier. As much as he had hoped his behaviour had never been influenced by the cursed soul shard, he couldn’t help but think it had at the very least impacted his mood. Now, it was as if a massive weight had been lifted off his shoulders, one that had been with him for a very long time. The state of the Wizarding World didn’t dampen his mood today: Draco told him he loved him when they woke up and Harry was still smiling like a loon six hours later.

 

His new understanding of magic and extensive spell repertoire didn’t mean he was Voldemort’s equal yet and somehow, it brought him some form of peace and acceptance. His brain might be fuller now, but he didn’t have the reflexes to keep up with a great duellist. His body lacked the necessary training. One undeniable bonus was his now complete understanding of Occlumency, which he used to separate what he learned himself and what the possession granted him. He wasn’t confused anymore: being suddenly filled with what used to lurk in the mind of one of the best student Hogwarts had ever seen freaked him out at first, but managing to identify what didn’t belong to him made him see the benefits of the situation. He also found it rather funny that Riddle and Hermione were so similar in their obsessive research - and some of what Riddle knew was quite unexpected. Apparently, extensive studies included Household Charms and one nifty little spell to apply neon green polish to one’s toenails. He didn’t know everything though and Harry was quite relieved to still need to work on his Animagus transformation.

 

With Hedwig flying near his head, he was skipping happily - as much as possible when the snow under his boots was so deep. A veritable army of snowmen surrounded the hotel after the teens spent all morning working on them in the dark and he smiled when he passed by his and Draco’s creation, remembering how long it took them to build it just because they kept interrupting each other with kisses and hugs. Blaise had made his distaste known by building his own snowman on the other side of the building. The lack of sunlight took its toll on the Italian; Harry didn’t blame him.

 

He kicked the snow off his boots and cast a Charm to dry his clothes before stepping inside the school. Draco was in his room, working on his Potions essay. Daphne, Millicent, Susan and Terence accompanied Remus to the Muggle town, Sirius was meeting with Vitaly in Russia and Theo was testing a few recipes from the book Harry gave him for Christmas. Blaise was spending some time with his mother, who decided to visit unannounced after receiving depressing letters from her son. Astoria, who had been quite elusive recently, was already inside the school. She spent a few hours in the library every day, using the holidays to catch up on her lessons. She wanted to follow the Fifth Year curriculum as soon as possible, though Harry couldn’t help but think she was researching something else. He didn’t forget her actions during the ritual.

 

He unlocked the wooden door to the room he claimed for his experiments with wandcrafting and Hedwig landed on top of a cupboard.

 

The Elm wand rested on a shelf until he could find a suitable core but he had a good feeling about the Cedar one he had been working on these past few days. He owned several items he wanted to test among various Potions ingredients and the products he bought in Russia.

 

He ran his fingers along the polished wood. It was elegant, eleven inches with Pictish engravings near the tip and lines spiralling around the handle. Without Voldemort’s stolen grasp on obscure branches of magic and History, he wouldn’t have known what they were. Harry thought the wand was gorgeous.

 

He let his instinct guide him and investigated every organic object in front of him. If he closed his eyes, his power allowed him to see a strange haze around them, which he guessed was their aura. When he let his magic levitate them and place them against the carved wood, he noticed glowing strands slowly reaching out from the wand and the core, touching each other before retreating and trying again, testing, tasting. They turned a sickly yellow and Harry retrieved the Dittany stalk. Definitely not compatible with this particular wand.

 

Unicorn hair had a slightly more encouraging reaction, yet not good enough. When he put it aside, the strands from the wand lengthened and grasped the Hippogriff feather that had been stuck to Remus’ coat and that Harry had stored away, just in case. The feather’s aura brightened so much that if Harry had been using his physical sight, he would have had to look away.

 

Barely able to contain his excitement, he almost lost his grasp on his meditative state. He took a deep breath, seized the feather with his magic and concentrated on merging it with the wood. Sweat pooled on his forehead as he poured his strength into the wood, interweaving core and wand until they were properly fused together.

 

He let out a gasp and opened his eyes, ending his meditation to contemplate his work. He was shaking, gleeful, almost delirious. He softly picked up the brand new wand and felt its magic, its life-force flowing within. The engravings pulsed with a soft golden light. He managed to control its intensity with a thought, which was reassuring as he doubted it would be welcome if the wand’s owner needed to be discrete.

 

Holding it didn’t give Harry the amazing sensation he had felt when he touched his first wand, so he knew it wouldn’t become his own. Thankfully, a wandmaker was so attuned with his creations that he could still use them, though they would never be faithful to him if they weren’t compatible with his magical signature. He waved it around without using any spell, vaguely noticing that he was tired and hungry when suddenly a ball of feathers burst into existence.

 

Startled, he stared at the chicken which was now clucking on the floor. He blinked and another one appeared, followed by a seemingly endless stream of noisy, smelly chickens of all species, shapes and sizes.

 

“Shit- no- Stop! STOP! _Finite Incantatem_!”

 

Feathers flew everywhere and he found himself surrounded by dozens of birds. Hedwig looked mightily unimpressed.

 

Harry didn’t want to Vanish live animals, Merlin knew where that would send them. He called Toppy.

 

“What has Harry Potter been _doing_ in here?” the Elf exclaimed, outraged.

 

“Raising birds. No, sorry, I really don’t know what happened. Can you do something with them?”

 

The Elf snapped her fingers and the creatures disappeared.

 

“Where did you send them?” Harry asked.

 

“Toppy be sending them to a farm. You is needing to stop playing now. It is being dinner time. Isabella Zabini be making lasagna in Toppy’s place. Toppy is being annoyed. Theodore Nott be using the kitchen too, what good is Toppy?”

 

“Err, yeah, sorry about that. Thanks, though.”

 

Toppy popped away and Harry started laughing hysterically. He was still chuckling when he left with Hedwig on his shoulder and the Cedar wand in his pocket.

 

 

***

 

 

Harry had never had lasagna in his life and after taking a bite of the steamy dish, he stared at his plate in wonder. “Why in Merlin’s name don’t we have this at Hogwarts?” 

 

Draco hummed in agreement, chewing with his eyes shut in pure bliss.

 

“The Hogwarts menu is quite poor and rarely includes foreign dishes,” Blaise’s mother said. She was sitting next to Sirius and seemed intent on seducing him, which wasn’t working at all. However, she was persistent and the teens kept snickering and darting glances at each other - especially because Remus’ barely restrained amusement was obvious.

 

“It’s also unhealthy,” Daphne added, then poked the cheesy goodness with her fork. “Not that I mind, but it would be nice to have more options. I’m not always in the mood for Shepherd’s pie.”

 

Blaise nodded slowly. “It’s often bland, or has the same flavour as everything else on the table.”

 

The Boy-Who-Lived never minded the taste. It was good food, there was plenty of it and he was allowed to eat it, so he never had any reason to complain. But ever since leaving Britain, he was discovering so many different dishes and types of cuisine that he would have some trouble going back and appreciating his meals as much as he used to. He regretted not tasting the bouillabaisse that Ron sneered at in Fourth Year.

 

Lasagna was now high up on the list of his favourite foods. He finished everything on his plate after taking his time to savour it, and while the others were either eating or talking, he started paying attention to the wand in his pocket. He tried to get a feel for his friends’ magical signature, frowning at Astoria’s. It was powerful, immensely so. It felt like damp earth and lightning and storms, so dark yet comforting, and he could swear it smelt like rain. No other magic had a scent or so many layers.

 

Draco’s was warm but muted, quiet. It felt safe and bright, without any hint of darkness. There was an underlying violence to Millicent’s and Theo’s and a surprisingly bubbly, hyperactive flair to Terence’s despite its undeniable shadows. Remus’ was almost animalistic and reminded him of the Forbidden Forest at night. Sirius’ had the same brightness as Draco’s without any restraint - and the Cedar wand vibrated strongly when Harry focused on him.

Swallowing nervously, he asked to talk to him for a minute. They left the room and closed the door behind them. “Everything alright?”

 

Harry smiled. “Yeah. I just… give me your hand.”

 

Cocking his head curiously, Sirius held it out, and Harry fidgeted before placing the wand in his palm. The effect was immediate: the man gasped, eyes wide open, and an intense light surrounded him. Not expecting that reaction, Harry took a few steps back and watched him in wonder. When the light faded, Sirius’ eyes were misty and his voice choked, full of emotion.

 

“Pronglet, did you make this wand?” he asked, breathless.

 

Harry’s smile widened and he nodded. “Cedar, eleven inches with a Hippogriff feather core. Buckbeak’s.”

 

“So, healing, pride and power, I guess? I love it!” Sirius leapt towards a window, opened it, and cast _Avis_. A flock of finches flew into the darkness. 

 

A few seconds later, Harry was hugged within an inch of his life by an ecstatic godfather who was laughing in such delight that a group of curious teenagers joined them to investigate (they were also wondering why all the lights had suddenly turned off and why Toppy could be heard screaming bloody murder from the kitchen).

 

The borrowed wand from one of Sirius’ ancestors was placed into the box at the back of the man’s wardrobe and Remus had to deal with an overly emotional Padfoot until morning.

 

 

***

 

 

_ARCTIC DWARVEN VAULTS Ltd_

 

_General Manager: Grudu Silvergut_

 

_Dear Mr Black,_

 

_We are pleased to inform you that your Vaults are now open and ready for use at any of our branches in the Wizarding areas of: Tromsø (Norway) Anchorage (USA), Ilulissat (Greenland), Murmansk (Russia). Please find a list of all Vaults below:_

 

_(2) Professional Vaults: Lilium School for Magic_

_(2) Private Vaults: Potter Family (Access: Harry James Potter upon reaching the age of 17)_

_(1) Private Vault: Sirius Orion Black (Access: Sirius Orion Black)_

_(5) Private Vaults: Black Family (Access: Sirius Orion Black)_

_(1) Private Vault: Draco Lucius Malfoy (Access: Draco Lucius Malfoy upon reaching the age of 17)_

_(1) Private Vault: Remus John Lupin (Access: Remus John Lupin)_

_(1) Trust Vault: Harry James Potter (Access: Sirius Orion Black, Harry James Potter)_

_(1) Trust Vault: Draco Lucius Malfoy (Access: Sirius Orion Black, Draco Lucius Malfoy)_

 

_The requested transfers from Gringotts Wizarding Bank have been completed. Please find enclosed a list of Objects and Monnies for each Vault._

 

_Thank you for using Arctic Dwarven Vaults._

 

_Sincerely,_

 

_Bhaznuhilda Stoneflayer_

_Branch Manager: Tromsø, Norway_

 

 

“Dwarves?” Remus asked, one eyebrow raised, holding the letter.

 

Sirius drank a sip of his Butterbeer and barked a laugh. “There’s no Gringotts in this country. I’d rather not travel to Russia every time I need to visit my vaults and honestly, the Dwarves are much friendlier. If they had branches in the UK I would have switched a long time ago.”

 

“Alright. I’m curious about Tromsø’s Wizarding Town, let me know when you’re going back. Now- care to explain why I suddenly have a vault myself?”

 

“That’s a gift and you can’t take it back!”

 

“Pads…”

 

“Nope, not listening. I did the same for Draco. Lucius froze his trust vault.”

 

Remus let out a long sigh. There was no reasoning with Sirius when it came to helping a friend, and being a Werewolf meant he barely had enough money to have a roof over his head and eat at the end of the month. He would be teaching again after New Years but what would happen if the school closed after the youngest student passed her NEWTs? He hid his worries at the back of his mind and focused instead on the fact that Gringotts had just lost the business of two of the richest families in Europe. After being insulted for his condition by a Goblin teller a few weeks ago, he felt vindicated, and if the British Wizarding World suffered the economic consequences of such a large amount of old money leaving their system, he would consider it justice. For himself, for Sirius, for Harry. He smiled.

 

“Speaking of Draco, what do you have in mind for him?”

 

Sirius finished his drink. “If his father doesn’t disown him soon, he’ll get emancipated. Tonks researched the procedure for him and the letters are sufficient for the Norwegian Ministry of Magic. Whatever happens, he’s becoming Draco Black as soon as possible. If Narcissa doesn’t divorce Lucius, I’ll adopt him.”

 

“You think she won’t do it?”

“He won’t let her. He might kill her if she tries. If I wasn’t a fugitive, I could force him, but their marriage is too old-fashioned and their contract doesn’t allow much leeway.”

 

“It was arranged?” the tawny-haired man asked. He had always heard how the couple presented such a united front, and how they were a perfect match for each other.

 

“They were dating in Hogwarts and when my uncle learned about it, he contacted Abraxas Malfoy. Cissa had no objection. I think she was too infatuated to realise what the terms of the contract were, or too eager to please her family to protest. She wasn’t as strong-headed as she is today. She was a bit like Regulus.” Hurt flashed in his eyes. “If he pushes her too far, perhaps she’ll get rid of him, that would be great.”

 

“And Draco would have to visit her in Azkaban.”

 

“Doubt it. She’s crafty and sneaky, she might not get caught.”

 

Amused, Remus put the letter back into its envelope and looked around. He could get used to spending his evenings here in the dining hall with his best friend who was so full of joy, almost as much as he had been before James and Lily’s death. He was aware that Sirius was undergoing therapy, but he strongly believed that Harry was helping just as much.

 

Harry… the boy surpassed any expectations Remus had for him. Before the possession (that the Werewolf had nightmares about simply after hearing about it), his school work at Lilium was already impressive, for someone who didn’t strive for excellence back at Hogwarts. He had improved immensely. Dating someone who enjoyed studying might have something to do with it.

 

Sirius made a strangled noise when he read the list of artefacts and other objects stored in the Potter Vaults.

 

“Pads?”

 

“Portraits, Remus!”

 

Said man snatched the parchment from his friend’s hands and quickly found the aforementioned section. James and Lily didn’t have a portrait made after their wedding, but…

 

 

  * _Magical Portrait of Fleamont Henry, James Fleamont and Euphemia Agatha Potter, 1977, updated in September 1981_


  * _Magical Portrait of Ignotus Peverell, 1268, updated in June 1288_



 

 

“Peverell?” he whispered, seeking his memories for any hint regarding the name he was sure he had heard before, and trying not to focus on the fact that a portrait of a 17-year-old James had been found.

 

“I don’t remember either. Think it’s time to call Kreacher again, he’s so old, he probably knows. And I still need answers about my brother.”

 

"Be my guest."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Harry speaks to his family. Because every story needs portraits.


	16. The Potters

 

New Year’s Eve was spent in Dumbledore’s company. He was given a tour of the school, observed the teens’ progress when they showed him the Duelling room, and spoke at length with Vitaly, who came back from Russia early because of Sirius’ letter about Harry. Sirius assisted the Headmaster with the destruction of Slytherin’s locket, which he got his hands on after promising Kreacher to honour Regulus’ last wish. Dumbledore begrudgingly agreed that having some help for the remaining soul shards would be best.

 

The old man brought more news from Britain, strictly for Sirius and Remus’ ears as members of the Order, after Sirius failed to show his face at the last meeting despite being asked to attend. The Prophecy, that had until now been guarded by Order members to prevent Voldemort from getting his hands on it, had become inactive, just like they suspected after the ritual. They were able to focus elsewhere, namely the insidious machinations within the Ministry. They still maintained a presence in the Department of Mysteries so Voldemort would keep believing that the Prophecy was important, but the guard was now a decoy.

 

Kingsley had reported that the Magical Children Registry was gone, though only a few Aurors had noticed its absence. Dumbledore suspected that Amelia Bones stole it and he fully approved. Magical children appeared on it as soon as they had their first bout of accidental magic, which could be at birth. The consequences, if Voldemort had it in his possession, would be disastrous. For this same reason, Dumbledore had removed the Students Registry from Hogwarts. It worked in a similar way, but names appeared when the children were close to their eleventh birthday, unless their parents had registered them for school and paid their tuition earlier. He kept it in a secret location.

 

Without Amelia, fake charges were being levelled against Dumbledore and taken seriously. When she was still the Head of Law Enforcement, she had been able to dismiss or stall accusations that had no basis, and now Dumbledore’s days as Headmaster were counted.

 

He thought he had but mere weeks left before Umbridge sacked him. When that happened, he intended to help Amelia, even if he would probably be on the run: she needed to speak to foreign Ministers and his past role and titles would be useful. Harry was willing to provide memories of Voldemort’s resurrection.

 

The third day of the new year saw Astoria’s first successful Animagus transformation: she was a grey chinchilla and Susan couldn’t stop cooing and cuddling her. To guide her in her first steps as an animal, Terence turned into his lykoi form, an ugly bugger that reminded them of Kreacher, and Perseus took a liking to him and followed him around constantly until he turned back into a human. Draco’s cat looked so betrayed that his owner fell off the couch laughing.

 

Astoria’s form was chosen as a mascot for their school.

 

It was on the same day that Sirius and Remus visited the Dwarven bank and brought back the portraits.

 

 

***

 

 

Daphne had been raised to be the perfect Pureblood lady. Her mother had groomed her from birth to ensure she would be compliant, delicate, quiet and proud of her blood. Her father, often too busy with work to really take part in her upbringing, had only realised recently that his wife’s hopes for their child’s future didn’t match his own plans. Indeed, Nathan Greengrass had no desire to withdraw Daphne from Hogwarts after her OWLs to marry her off to a wealthy Pureblood and he had been horrified to find out that negotiations were already underway - his signature was the last thing missing on the betrothal contract between his eldest daughter and Cassius Warrington. Had he kept turning a blind eye to his wife’s actions, Daphne and her sister wouldn’t be in Norway today.

 

Daphne didn’t mind a future as the wife of a rich Pureblood. She wanted children early and she enjoyed being taken care of by numerous servants and Elves. And if she married an absent man, so be it. It didn’t make her weak; whoever told her that could go and drown into the Black Lake. She wasn’t even against her own betrothal; Warrington wasn’t particularly good-looking, but he was smart and respected women. He wouldn’t consider her like a trophy but like an equal and might even let her indulge in her interest in girls from time to time, if she let him have a lover. She still had a crush on Amina Qureshi, who always had the most gorgeous headscarves matching her Ravenclaw tie.

 

The only flaw she could find in her mother’s plan was that she was expected to pledge her loyalty to a megalomaniac Dark Lord.

 

So, if Daphne had her say, she wouldn’t make her mother too angry. But she wasn’t alone. Because if an old-fashioned lifestyle suited her, it would destroy her little sister. Astoria had been a tomboy, rolling in the mud, ruining her dresses (when she was even wearing them. She hated them), spending more time playing outside than practicing piano or learning how to behave in polite society. She was a free spirit. But when she didn’t grow out of it, their mother stopped paying attention to her and focused on her eldest.

 

Astoria spent years lacking affection or even attention from anyone but the House Elves or her sister. At that time, their father was often abroad and thus unable to intervene - he didn’t even know. Desperate, Astoria forced herself to act more like Daphne. It worked, but it scarred her badly, and she became a polite, reserved girl who secretly resented her parents. Hogwarts saved her from spiralling into depression - and eventually, her father came home for longer periods of time, and put a stop to his wife’s horrendous behaviour.

 

In Norway, Astoria was nothing like the shadow Daphne knew back home. She was free.

 

Daphne hated herself for being too weak to save her earlier and she blamed her father. Trying to make up for everything, she rarely left her sister’s side, both at Hogwarts and at Lilium. Their closeness allowed her to notice a rapid change after Yule and it scared her. The air around her sister felt… wrong, somehow. Unfamiliar. Dark. She needed to know what was going on.

 

Knowing she’d find her somewhere inside the school, vacations or not, she first tried the library, but found Terence and Susan snogging in a corner and quickly made her way out. She ran into Professor Lupin examining the open door to his future Charms classroom and idly wondered where the Werewolf would go for the full moon. She hoped it would be as far from the hotel as possible.

 

An unknown male voice rose from the Transfiguration classroom. Curious, she glanced inside, and upon seeing her sister sitting cross-legged on the teacher’s desk talking to a portrait, she entered and locked the door.

 

“Daphne! Meet Ignotus Peverell,” Astoria gestured at the painted man. He had wavy black hair falling below his chin in gentle waves, streaked with grey. His nose was thin and slightly crooked, his dark brown eyes looked like they had seen too many losses, yet his wrinkles indicated he had laughed often. He looked like a distinguished Pureblood - and of course, he was. Daphne knew his name, though she couldn’t place it.

 

“My lady,” the portrait greeted with a stiff nod and a gentle smile.

 

“Professor Black brought him here, he said this school lacked knowledgeable portraits. His canvas is too old and impairs his movements, but his essence is intact. I updated it so he could understand and speak modern English.”

 

Daphne cocked her head to the side. “ _You_ updated it? How?”

 

“Your sister’s grasp on magic is quite impressive, Miss Greengrass.”

 

“Yes, about that.” She exhaled and sat on a chair, unwilling to climb on the desk like the little monkey her sister thought she was. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you since Yule. Did something happen?”

 

Astoria hesitated and played with the hem of her shirt. “My magic changed. I’m trying to understand it.”

 

“Changed how? It feels different just being around you.” She took her sister’s hand. “I’m worried.”

 

“I’ve been able to leave my body and speak to someone’s soul… I can see Thestrals, and so much more. Things I have no name for, because they’re not in books. I see the past and the future in my dreams, so many versions of it, and I can touch magic.”

 

Was Astoria a Seer? A kind Daphne was unfamiliar with? She felt a chill running down her spine. She stayed silent, watching her sister’s gaze become clouded before she seemed to come back to herself. When Ignotus spoke, his voice startled her, because she had already forgotten his presence.

 

“As I was telling you, dear child, I have witnessed this before. Am I wrong in thinking that your power keeps you awake at night, and that you cannot use your wand anymore?”

 

Saddened, Daphne tightened her grip on her hand. Astoria nodded. “I thought it was just because it’s not my wand, it belonged to someone else, but it worked perfectly until this all started.”

 

“And you said there was a ritual performed nearby that night?” Another nod and Ignotus’ smile grew. “Then do not worry much. Both of you. Miss Astoria, wands will no longer be compatible with you. You will need a staff. Two dark-attuned cores and a wood to temper them. Olive, perhaps. Fear not; I can be your teacher.”

 

Daphne couldn’t believe her ears. She wanted to scream that of course she was afraid, her sister was seeing things and losing control of a magic that had grown too dark and powerful, if the atmosphere around the younger girl could be trusted. But the joy in Astoria’s eyes was so rare… she might not have protected her as a child, but she wouldn’t abandon her now.

 

“Whatever this is, if you want to do it, I’m with you,” she declared. “Let’s ask Harry if he can build a staff for you.”

 

 _And if you hurt her, I’ll set your portrait on fire,_ she swore to herself, staring at the wall.  

 

 

***

 

 

“You wanted to see me?” Draco asked Sirius, standing in the corridor leading to Harry’s workshop.

 

His cousin motioned for him to follow and slipped into the empty workshop (Harry was baking with Theo and Draco had no desire to end up covered in flour, so he rose to the occasion when he was told Sirius needed to speak to him). Inside, magic hung in the air, just as familiar as the smell of Harry’s tea tree shampoo.

 

Sirius gestured to a large frame on the wall. “I found two portraits in the Potter family vault. The oldest is hanging in your Transfiguration classroom, and I thought- well, I wanted your opinion for this one here.”

 

Draco approached the wall and studied the still frozen portrait. The young man in the middle looked so much like… he sucked in a quick breath. “Is it Harry’s family?”

 

Emotion burned in the man’s eyes when he nodded. “Do you think he’ll like having it here, where he works? I’ll add empty frames elsewhere so they can wander.”

 

“He’ll love it,” he whispered, his fingers running along the simple but sturdy frame. “Why did you ask me?”

 

“I want you to show it to him. I’m afraid I’m not ready to speak to them yet, I need a little more time, and I’d rather not fall apart when I activate it. They also don’t know much - they were updated in 1981, so they’re aware that Voldemort was after James and Lily, but they… they need more. You can tell them without crumbling.”

 

It would indeed be best if Harry wasn’t required to bring them horrendous news himself. Draco felt honoured to be given such an important responsibility. As he was pondering where to start, Sirius squeezed his shoulder. The teenager’s eyes met grey irises startlingly similar to his own. Cold metal touched his palm and when he looked down, he stared at a small silver key, confused.

 

“The key to your trust vault,” Sirius explained.

 

Draco almost laughed but managed to restrain himself. “Father cut me off,” he said, bitter.

 

“You might bear the Malfoy name, but you are also a son of the House of Black. I was never officially disowned or charged for the crimes I’m accused of and I am the Head of your mother’s family - _your_ family.”

 

His throat suddenly dry, his hands shaking, the boy tried to process these words. “Did you give me money?” He didn’t know whether to be ecstatic or outraged. His old self would feel like his pride had just been severely wounded and the new Draco struggled with what he thought was charity – but it would be nice to be able to provide for himself and to buy only the very best gifts for Harry.

 

“I am merely providing what is due to any child born with Black blood. I know for a fact that my uncle Cygnus was responsible for half of the contents of your Malfoy trust vault and the vault you should have access to when you come of age. Unfortunately, both are under the Malfoy name.”

 

“I’ll probably never see what’s inside,” Draco muttered.

 

“Which is why I’m making sure you’re not left destitute.”

 

“Would you have given me the key, if I had refused to help with the portrait?”

 

Sirius barked a laugh. “I’m not a Slytherin. To activate it, simply tap your wand against the frame.” He Apparated before the blonde could speak, so Draco was left alone with quite an intimidating task in front of him.

 

He looked at the key again and resisted the urge to cry. He wrapped his arms around himself and slid to the floor, resting his head against the wall and breathing in and out slowly. He was hiding too much pain to avoid burdening Harry - he had enough to deal with lately, didn’t he? - and it was becoming harder to keep up his happy, cuddly facade all day. Of course, Harry wouldn’t mind. He would probably be angry that Draco felt the need to lie about how his father’s letters affected him. but he wasn’t ready to speak too much of it. His boyfriend already suspected. After all, Draco had more nightmares lately and sometimes woke up with tears drying on his cheeks. Harry could be obtuse but not that much. He had gotten much better at identifying other people’s emotions.

 

The last letter Lucius had sent him, a few days after Yule, accompanied a gift that had been disposed of before he could open it. Toppy told him he didn’t want to know what was inside, but the letter, free of magic and without any signature, said enough.

 

 

_If you have truly been kidnapped, I cannot believe you would lack the intelligence to escape for so long. I have thus reached the displeasing conclusion that you have indeed betrayed your family. There will be no blood-traitor bearing the Malfoy name._

 

_You will come home, and you will do your duty. I have gone ahead and removed you from Hogwarts; you will marry a suitable Pureblood witch of my choosing and produce an heir, and if you say one word I dislike, you will die._

 

_If you do not comply, I will find you, and you will beg me for death._

 

_Choose wisely._

 

 

After reading it, Draco had been sick. Sirius had found him sobbing in front of the fireplace in the middle of the night, the letter crumpled between his fingers. The man had stayed with him for hours in the reception hall, perfectly silent, and had brought him back to Harry’s room after Draco fell asleep on the rug. And now, he had opened a vault for him? Draco didn’t understand what he had done to deserve someone like Sirius in his life.

 

Once he was calm enough, he stood up and activated the portrait before his hesitation got the better of him. He hoped his face wasn’t showing that he just had a breakdown.

 

The occupants of the frame stirred and looked around curiously, until the patriarch - Fleamont, according to the label - set his eyes on Draco. “Well, who might you be, young man?”

 

“What a beautiful child you are,” the woman cooed, and James rolled his eyes in a way that made him look eerily like Harry. “You look quite familiar.”

 

“My name is-” he stopped briefly, blinked, and with a renewed sense of purpose, continued: “Draco Black.”

 

“No freaking way, are you Sirius’ son?” James exclaimed, his eyebrows climbing up to his hairline. “What year is this?”

 

“Ooh, yes, I can see that now,” Euphemia smiled. “You have his eyes.”

 

He cleared his throat. “No, I was born Draco Lucius Malfoy, son of Narcissa Black and Lucius Malfoy. It is 1996.”

 

James let out a strangled sound but didn’t start ranting about Death Eaters. Draco doubted he would have reacted the same way if he hadn’t been updated by his older self. According to Narcissa, James and the Marauders were bullies and held nothing but contempt for Slytherins. But children grew up; just a few years older, married and with a baby to take care of, James Potter had probably been more tolerant. Sirius was a reasonable man today, after all.

 

Fleamont smiled benevolently. He had Harry’s hair, but the boy took more after his grandmother. “Ah. May I ask what happened, to make you take your mother’s name?”

 

His wife shushed him. “Please forgive my husband. Portraits are notoriously nosy.”

 

Thinking about his great-grandmother’s portrait in Malfoy Manor, Draco smothered a laugh. It was certainly true. “I renounced my father.”

 

Now, the Potters looked at him in quiet understanding. They had seen Sirius go through a similar event when he was sixteen: they didn’t need more details.

 

“1996,” James said a few minutes later, his expression carefully blank. Draco felt himself tense up. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

 

The blonde barely saw Euphemia’s hand rise to cover her mouth because he lowered his head to gather enough courage to answer.

 

“When?” James asked again, this time in a whisper.

 

Portraits didn’t feel emotions as strongly as living beings, but it was still difficult to tell him. “Halloween 1981. Pettigrew betrayed you, and V-Voldemort killed you and Lily.” He looked him in the eyes. “Harry survived.”

 

Euphemia embraced her son and James shuddered. “Oh, Merlin. How?”

 

Informing them of the Horcrux would be going too far, so Draco simply told them the story of the Boy-Who-Lived. When they recovered from the news of the murders, he decided it would be best to speak of the Harry he did know. They would hear about Azkaban and the Dark Lord’s return soon enough.

 

“He’s amazing,” he started after James asked if they went to Hogwarts together. “I met him when he went to Madam Malkin for his Hogwarts robes. He was so small and adorable, and I made a fool of myself, so we hated each other until Fifth Year. He’s a Gryffindor.” Smirking, he thought he would let Harry tell them about the Sorting Hat’s first choice on his own. “Best seeker I’ve ever seen. He could give any professional player a run for their money.” James beamed at that. “He’s kind and brave, and his Patronus is a stag.”

 

James nearly choked. “What?”

 

“He can cast one already?” Fleamont blinked in surprise.

 

“Since he was thirteen.”

 

“You love him very much,” the woman observed. “Does he know?”

 

Draco felt his cheeks burn. Some people were just too perceptive. “He does.” At James’ snicker, relief flooded over him.

 

Euphemia seemed awfully smug. “My grandson has good taste.”

 

James let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, a gesture Harry did all the time. “I guess I approve. This is weird. Harry is just a sweet baby to me. Last time I saw him, he was riding on Padfoot’s back and squealing. He was so happy. Where is he? And anyway, where are we? What’s this room for?”

 

“Sirius asked me to put you up to speed before letting him see you.” Before they could ask, he let them know that the man would speak to them himself soon. He didn’t know him enough to give any information to those who had been his adoptive family. “Harry will explain everything. I’ll be back with him soon.”

 

“Alright dear, thank you for waking us,” Euphemia called after him before he left.

 

He thought this had been the best way to make him temporarily forget his own worries. He didn’t need to cry anymore. Now, he was simply excited for Harry’s reaction. When he ran into him outside, he grabbed his upper arms and attempted to twirl him around but sent him right into a blanket of fresh snow instead and fell on top of him. Big green eyes stared in shock and amusement.

 

“Hi Draco.” He raised his head and kissed the blonde. Harry’s lips were warm and slightly chapped, and Draco lost himself in the sensations he had become addicted to.

 

Breaking the kiss but keeping his face close enough to still brush their nose together, Harry’s gloved hand messed with Draco’s hair. “What’s the matter with you?”

 

“I have something to show you.”

 

“Does it involve rolling around in the snow?”

 

“That would be far below my station.”

 

“My apologies.” They kissed again, slow and soft, until a tree behind them decided to get rid of the weight of the snow on its branches and dumped it on their head.


	17. OWLs or NEWTs?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who wanted to read about Harry meeting the portrait, don't worry: while I don't want to include it in the main story, I'll post outtakes. It's not the only scene that doesn't have a place in a chapter but is still important :)

_ To Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, _

 

_ Malfoy Manor is no longer my home. I shall endeavour to stay out of your way in the future and request that you do the same. _

 

_ Regards, _

 

_ Draco _

 

 

***

 

 

“This is revolting,” Harry grumbled as he drained his vial of Salamander blood into his bubbling cauldron and started stirring anti-clockwise.

 

Millicent rolled her eyes. “What’s revolting is that you don’t even need to read the instructions.”

 

“Yes, well, the trade-off was having Riddle in my head.”

 

Professor Gnedykh glanced at them from the other side of the classroom. “Quiet, please.” He then went back to observing Blaise’s potion, which had turned a dull colour and smelled like gasoline. He cast a Stasis Charm on it. “Do you know what you did wrong?”

 

“Err, I think I lost count of the Moondew drops.”

 

“Indeed. How would you fix it and why?”

 

Blaise shook his head as Harry’s compartmentalized knowledge screamed: “one drop of Rue extract to slow the process, two clockwise turns and replace half the Dittany with Marigold - but I don’t know why”. He didn’t speak of it; instead, he focused on adding just enough gooey sloth brain mucus to his cauldron to turn his potion bright blue. He vaguely heard Draco give the answer and looked at his potion, relieved when he found it just as perfect as his own. Potions were Draco’s strength. Harry would hate it if he stole his spotlight. It was interesting that Voldemort, for all his academic knowledge, still lacked the deep, instinctual understanding that Draco and Snape shared for the topic.

 

Gnedykh cancelled the Stasis Charm and paid close attention to Blaise’s next steps until his Wiggenweld potion went back to the correct colour. Nodding, he slowly made his way to the back of the classroom, finding little details to change in almost every potion and taking the time to speak about them with the students. He conversed quietly with Astoria, who was working on a Fourth Year potion far from the others, before finding his way back to the front of the class.

 

Harry had enjoyed his teaching style before Yule. The holidays were over and with Potions was their first class of the week, the boy was sorry to say that he was now rather bored. At least it was a practical session; theory would be like History with Professor Binns. He wondered if, perhaps, taking his OWLs and NEWTs early would be so bad. He had been reluctant when Remus told him he should take at least a few, but if he could focus on helping his friends, train his body to be ready to face Voldemort, and spend the rest of the year making wands, would it be so bad? He was currently busy with Astoria’s staff, which required a considerable amount of research and took a lot of time, especially because he kept being distracted by his family’s portrait. He learned so much from them! He was still miffed about the fact that no one thought it necessary to tell him that his grandmother came from Southern India.

 

The sound of broken glass brought him back to the task at hand, just in time to see Draco sneering at a shattered cup. “Do you still have Honeywater?” the blonde asked.

 

Harry looked at his ingredients and passed his cup to his boyfriend.

 

“Thanks.” He frowned and moved his chair closer to Harry’s when Theo’s potion started bubbling aggressively. “I think Theo is in an experimental mood.”

 

Harry snorted and silently cast a Shield around the other Slytherin’s cauldron. Just in time, since sparks flew out of the mixture and caused Theo to flail and fall off his chair in a panic. Gnedykh made sure the shield held, and they all watched the controlled explosion inside. 

 

“Thank you, Potter. Nott, you’ll be preparing Flobberworms and brains every evening this week. We’re not in the kitchen.”

 

“Potter! Fifty points from Gryffindor for not stopping Mister Nott,” Draco said in a slow drawl, almost causing Harry to botch his own potion. Millicent giggled and even Gnedykh appeared amused, judging by the twitch at the corner of his lips.

 

They bottled their potions and the clock struck 11:15. “I want two rolls of parchment on the uses of Moondew for next Monday.”

 

Blaise groaned and Harry brought his and Draco’s vials to Gnedykh’s desk. Toppy appeared to clean up and the group of teens headed to the library for their hour of self-study.

 

“Professor Lupin brought new books!” Theo shouted, standing in front of a brand new set of shelves before grabbing a heavy volume on magical wines. 

 

A book titled  _ Weather and Elements, by Hestia Dearborn  _ caught Harry’s eye. “Draco? Weren’t you looking for this the other day?” 

The blonde stepped closer and almost snatched the book out of his boyfriend’s reach. Harry remembered their latest foray in St. Petersburg and how he had been dragged into every bookstore because Draco had learned that his beloved Weather Magic had ties with Elemental Magic. 

 

With his nose buried in the book, he sat on the floor, oblivious to his surroundings. Amused, Harry shook his head and browsed the shelves, looking for something Voldemort wasn’t familiar with and getting quite frustrated because that man’s thirst for knowledge meant he really struggled to find anything new to learn. When his quest for unknown subjects yielded no result, he sat in a corner and decided to continue working on his Animagus transformation. This was one thing Voldemort had never done.

 

 

***

 

 

“I didn’t think your hair could get any worse, but you’ve surpassed my expectations.”

 

Harry glared at Sirius, who was leaning against the wall of his workshop and snickering after two widely incompatible cores exploded in the boy’s face. Building Astoria’s staff according to Ignotus’ specifications was quickly becoming a challenge. The man lurked in the Potters’ frame, which was otherwise empty since there were now numerous magical paintings they could explore. Fleamont seemed particularly fond of the one hanging in the library, which depicted numerous books he could read.

 

“I just don’t know what to do,” Harry complained, glancing at the new possible cores he had received via Owl Post from the creepy apothecary in Russia. He rubbed his cheek and grimaced at the black soot that fell on the floor. 

 

“Obviously, Thestral hair is not working, but if you are certain about the feel of Miss Greengrass’ magic, there are other creatures who dwell between both worlds.”

 

“Yes, well, I’m not going to use an Inferi’s eyeball.”

 

Sirius shuddered. “We’re also not summoning a Dementor again. Didn’t end well last time.”

 

“Why are you both here anyway? You’re distracting me.”

 

A chuckle came from the portrait, who vanished and left the frame empty. Sirius crossed his arms. “You asked about taking your NEWTs.”

 

Harry stopped frowning at the mess on the table and stared at the piece of parchment held between his godfather’s fingers. “Can I? Without passing my OWLs?” He placed the Thestral hair back into the correct vial.

 

“See for yourself.” Sirius handed him the parchment.

 

 

_ SCANDINAVIAN MINISTRY for MAGIC _

_ Jurisdiction: NORWAY _

 

_ Minister: Astrid Ellen Jernskjegg   _

 

_ Dear Mr Black, _

 

_ Following your testimony and a careful examination of the memories you provided, we are delighted to offer you sanctuary until such a time as the British Ministry exonerates you. You are safe on our shores and are granted official custody of Harry James Potter. Congratulations. _

 

_ We understand the need for secrecy and commend you for your efforts to ensure the students of Lilium School are properly educated without being at risk. Thus, we recognize your establishment as a legitimate institution but will keep it out of official reports and public listings.  _

 

_ Your students will be able to pass their standardized tests anonymously with experts from the International Confederation of Wizards. The judges for their practical tests will swear an Unbreakable Vow not to reveal their identity, and the scores will not be made public until the situation in the British Isles is resolved. _

 

_ Should a student wish to pass their Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests without achieving their Ordinary Wizarding Levels, their marks will be valid for both NEWTs and OWLs. We discourage such a practice but do not forbid it. Testing is available at any time but requires advanced notice. Please see the detailed list of NEWTs subjects as only subjects that are legal in Norway can be tested. _

 

_ Should you wish to test illegal magic, the Scandinavian Ministry will not provide the means to do so and NEWTs in this branch of magic will require a visit to another Ministry. Note that having a NEWT in illegal magic is not ground for questioning as long as said magic is not practised in Norway, Finland or Sweden. _

 

_ Your query regarding Mister Draco Lucius Malfoy is currently pending evaluation. We will be in contact within the next few days. _

 

_ We are looking forward to speaking with you again. _

 

_ Best Regards, _

 

_ Camilla Ann Nordrum _

_ Representative for Norway _

 

 

“What did you do?” Harry asked, worried and elated at the same time.

 

“Well, I couldn’t really waltz in there with a Glamour on my face. Amelia knows just the right people. She gave them my memories, they swore a Vow not to arrest me unless I couldn’t prove my innocence, and I went to the Ministry for a secret trial. Fudge won’t know a thing! If it wouldn’t cause an international incident, they’d storm into his office. They are also convinced about Voldemort’s return, unfortunately not every Ministry agrees - those who do can’t act unless Fudge gets his shit together, or unless Voldy threatens them.”

 

Gnawing on his lower lip, the boy nodded in relief, before letting Sirius hold him. He had a guardian. Officially. Someone he loved, who loved him like a son. The Dursleys could finally be forgotten; he would never go back to Privet Drive. Gringotts might have considered him Sirius’ heir, but that was all they could do, and with their accounts now closed, Sirius had had to send a new request to the Dwarves.

 

Harry didn’t understand how the different Ministries worked, how the Scandinavian Ministry could handle issues for citizens of another country and why banks had any say in matters of inheritance. Was this because the Wizarding World didn’t have the same borders and regulations as the Muggle one? This would explain the lack of Embassies. Perhaps it had to do with being part of the ICW. Voldemort’s knowledge about it didn’t fully transfer, and most of it was outdated. Numerous policies changed in the 1970s to make life easier for people who fled Britain, but apparently, Riddle was only interested in it when he was still sane. 

 

This also meant that quite a few topics in Harry’s mind were no longer useful, especially Muggle ones. Yes, Voldemort knew his enemies well when their TV shows were still broadcasted in black and white, but he didn’t seem aware that they had been to the Moon. Harry guessed that he was too insane to care by then. 

 

“So,” Sirius said, letting him go, “OWLs or NEWTs?”

 

Harry sighed loudly and Vanished the ashes from the table. “Hermione will kill me. NEWTs.” He wasn’t enough of a dedicated student to go through two rounds of exams when passing a NEWT would automatically give him the same score on the corresponding OWL. “Can we ask the others if they’re interested? Even Astoria is ready for the Defense NEWT.”

 

“Perhaps, but only Defense. I need to talk to your teachers and we can organize mock-up tests next week.”

 

“Draco would love to know where he’s at for OWLs.”

 

“Mock-ups for OWLs, then. Leave it to me.”

 

Harry watched him go and let out a long-suffering groan at the sight of Astoria’s future staff. After reviewing each ingredient again, he just sat on the floor and started meditating for the third time that day. 

  
  


 

***

 

 

Draco was a Merlin-damned weasel. Not a bunny, not a hamster, not even a ferret, a  _ weasel _ . He stood on the floor, surrounded by his (giant) friends, petrified, his tail - he had a  _ tail _ ! - twitching. 

 

The flash of a Muggle camera blinded him, and when he gathered his wits, he snarled at Millicent and jumped on her leg. The awkwardness of his first transformation lingered and he struggled to climb up to her shoulder. He was determined. Even if everyone giggled, he persevered, and once he reached the top, he squinted, bumped his nose against the girl’s cheek, and bit her.

 

He tasted blood and Millicent yelped, but he was already out of reach, perched on a shelf far from the teenagers.

 

He sulked. 

 

There was no way anyone would ever let him live this down. He didn’t want to turn back, because he knew he would be blushing. Soon, a lykoi, a chinchilla and an Italian Greyhound (Blaise) were playing together while Millicent wiped the blood off her face.

 

Draco’s mind was filled with weasel-thoughts, sometimes interrupted by his human brain wondering what he was doing, which was how he managed to stop gnawing on the spine of a book and pay attention to the open door. He locked eyes with Harry.

 

“Draco?” the boy gasped. The weasel stuck his nose in the air, still proud, and hoping his boyfriend wouldn’t laugh.

 

He didn’t. Harry cooed, a rather disturbing and unusual sound, and a few seconds later, Draco’s furry little body was being carried carefully and getting scratches and nuzzles and kisses and oh Merlin that felt really, really good. Behind the ears was so nice. 

 

Perhaps too nice, because Draco fell asleep on Harry’s forearm.

 

 

***

 

 

“Are you going to try for the Defense NEWT?” Harry asked, laying on the bed and busy petting Perseus, a Muggle novel cast aside on his pillow. 

 

Draco’s voice echoed from the bathroom, accompanying the sound of water splashing on the floor. The boy did love long baths. “I’m not letting you get all the glory, of course, I’ll try. Potions, too.”

 

Harry hummed in agreement. If anyone could skip the Potions OWL among them, it would be Draco. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, yawned, and smiled at the framed picture taken by Sirius. It showed Harry peppering Draco’s cheek with kisses, both of them laughing, cheeks reddened by the cold, a pitiful snowman standing behind them. Like many of the pictures on the walls of his room, it had been taken when the sun was still rising and the snow melting too quickly.

 

The room no longer looked like it belonged to a hotel. Both Harry and Draco shared the space almost every night, so much so that the blonde’s room was slowly gathering dust and losing its personality. One day, Draco’s toothbrush had joined Harry’s in the same bathroom and had not left again.

 

Moving pictures of the Marauders, Lily, Narcissa, Hermione, the Weasleys, Neville, the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy and everyone who attended Lilium decorated each available surface. There was a small corner for pictures of Draco as a child, in his grandfather’s arms, playing with his mother, or laughing with his childhood friends, and there was just one picture of a baby Harry in his parents’ arms. Lucius was conspicuously absent. Slytherin and Gryffindor paraphernalia hung near the wardrobe, novels and board games crowded the shelves, school supplies were neatly arranged on the desk. The door even had a tiny opening for Perseus, if he wanted to wander.

 

The room felt like a small home for the couple and they adored everything about it.

 

Draco left the bathroom after spending way too much time drying his hair (Harry had learned to keep his mouth shut about it and even found it endearing). He was already wearing his silk pyjama and looked better than he had earlier - discovering that his Animagus form was a weasel left a bitter taste in his mouth, and even though he didn’t discuss it, Harry was aware of his father’s latest letter. 

 

The blonde scooped Perseus up. “Have we been getting belly scratches? Ear scratches? I know how that feels now.” The cat twisted around and ran out of the room. “He likes you better than me.”

 

“It’s crazy time, he’ll be all cuddly and sleepy in fifteen minutes.”

 

“Are  _ you _ all cuddly and sleepy?”

 

Harry blushed and let himself be thoroughly kissed until he couldn’t keep his moans under control. They hadn’t experimented much, even if everyone was sure they had made good use of the now infamous “Sirius Talk”. It was their first relationship, they felt intimidated and wanted to wait for the right moment. It just never seemed to be a good time. It didn’t matter to Harry: for now, heated kissing sessions and anything they attempted with their clothes on were sufficient. 

 

When they paused to catch their breath, Draco turned into his weasel form and snuggled against Harry’s neck.

 

“Love you,” the dark-haired boy murmured, laughing when a tiny tongue licked his jaw. He put his book on the floor and disappeared under his blanket, idly stroking the animal’s fur. 

 

He only realised he had fallen asleep when a wave of powerful magic woke him up, running through the corridors and frying every electronic appliance on the domain. Somewhere down the corridor, someone yelled a loud "Fuck!" and the boy chuckled until his eyelids became too heavy to stay awake.


	18. Visceral Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small disclaimer: this chapter contains an article from the Daily Prophet taken directly from the Order of the Phoenix.

Sirius awoke to the usual darkness of winter and with a reflex he took months to gain, he switched the light on. When it didn’t work, his sleep-addled brain forced him to keep trying until he figured out that the light bulb must have died. With a groan, his joints stiff and his muscles hurting from an intense duelling session, he left his warm bed and padded towards the bathroom, his hand trailing the wall to find his way.

 

The light in the bathroom wasn’t working either. He tried turning on the TV to no avail.

 

“Toppy?” he called, his voice hoarse.

 

“Sirius Black Sir! Toppy be having issues. What is you wanting?”

 

“Just wondering if the rest of the hotel is also in the dark.”

 

“Toppy be confirming. Things be broken, powerful magic killed them.”

 

Thinking it wouldn’t change anything now, he cast a _Lumos Maxima_. “Can you wake Ted and ask him to take a look? If too many appliances are broken, we’ll have to start using magic again until we fix them.”

 

“Toppy will!”

 

He got dressed, brushed his teeth and hair and washed his face. Exiting the room, he crept towards the stairs and ran into Ted Tonks, who hadn’t bothered getting dressed and wore a tattered blue pyjama.

 

“Remus is checking on the kids and Vitaly is analysing the magic. There’s too much damage,” the Muggleborn said with a sigh, squinting in the light from their wands. “I don’t know how long it’ll take to repair everything.”  

 

They walked together and assessed the damage in the kitchen, where Toppy was busy emptying the freezer and throwing food away. The men exchanged a glance. “House Elves,” they declared together. With great reluctance, Sirius called Kreacher.

 

“Nasty Master who honoured poor Master Regulus’ last wish and whom Kreacher is trying to hate in peace is calling Kreacher again, oh what is poor Kreacher supposed to do?”

 

“If I order you to work here, will you do it to the best of your abilities?”

 

“Poor Mistress’ heart would break if she saw Kreacher among Muggle filth, yes it would.”

 

Sirius wondered what possessed him to call for the vile servant and he rubbed his temples. “Kreacher, do you like Draco Malfoy?”

 

The elf perked up. “Young Master Draco is a good boy, yes, very good, Kreacher would like to serve Master Draco, but nasty blood-traitor Master will not let Kreacher do so, oh no he will not.”

 

“Actually, I will.” He smirked: Kreacher’s eyes opened so wide they seemed to take over his entire head. “I want you to work with Toppy to cook and clean and take care of anything we need. Draco will be your Master. He will be a Black soon. If you speak about him to anyone, he will be in grave danger. His survival depends on you.” That might have been too much but the elf blubbered, sobbed in delight and immediately started cleaning the dust from a window nearby.

 

Ted’s eyebrows were high on his forehead. “Do you think Draco will be happy to have him worship his presence?”

 

“At least Kreacher will obey him. We need at least one more elf though, I don’t want to overwork them.”

 

“I'll look into it.”

 

It didn’t take long before everlasting floating candles appeared everywhere, a Flame-Freezing Charm preventing them from setting fire to the ceiling. Sirius pocketed his wand, just in time to meet the eyes of a bewildered Remus.

 

“Did you know that Draco and Harry are sleeping together?”

 

Sirius schooled his features and refrained from laughing hysterically. “Moony, you’re living under a rock.”

 

“But their room looks like they’re married! They’re fifteen!”

 

“Whatever you saw, I don’t want to know.”

 

The wolf’s face paled. “No! Not that! Merlin! Just, family pictures on the walls and the way they act, it’s insane.”

 

Ted excused himself to check on Andromeda, who got unexpectedly sick because of the international Portkeys they had taken a few days ago. She was still teaching but everyone knew she was rather relieved to only need to use her brain for a few hours this week. It didn’t help that she was consumed with worry at the thought that Nymphadora was back in Britain. After his departure, Sirius looped an arm around Remus’ shoulders, led him into the dining hall and smiled at Toppy who, despite her frustration at the incident, was rather glad to be able to use magic again.

 

“Pronglet’s nightmares were really bad when he slept alone,” the Animagus explained. “Draco didn’t have any at first but with his father’s threats, I found him out of his bed many times and I could tell he was scared to close his eyes.”

 

“So, they calm each other?”

 

Sirius nodded just as breakfast started appearing on the table near them. He found his friend’s reaction funny but wasn’t certain he liked its implications. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said wrily. “I’m an irresponsible parent, Lily would hate me, you don’t need to say it.”

 

There was a crash upstairs, followed by screams and laughter. Remus sat at the teachers’ table. “I guess it’s not much different from Hogwarts,” he finally acknowledged with a sigh. “Dorms and all.”

 

“Thank you. Nobody ever said anything about Marlene and Dorcas, and Lily said they shared the same bed for years.”

 

“That doesn’t mean I approve.”

 

Sirius shrugged. “James seems to.”

 

“He’s a portrait.”

 

“He’s still James.”

 

“If you are quite finished, I have news.”

 

They both turned and stared at Vitaly, who looked unfazed in almost any circumstance and always managed to infuriate Sirius with his uncanny ability to be alert before drinking his morning coffee. Said coffee was waiting on the table, hot and dark. “I did miss using magic everywhere,” the Russian added, levitating a cup towards his hand. He drank with his eyes closed, undisturbed by the noise coming from the floor above or by the impatient tapping of Sirius’ fingers. After finishing his drink, he started buttering a toast, and the werewolf growled. “Do you need something?”

 

Sirius snorted as Remus rested his forehead on the table in defeat. Vitaly took it as a signal to end their sufferings. “Astoria’s magic changed during our Yule ritual. She’s working with Ignotus Peverell’s portrait and me to tame it but you should expect more outbursts until she truly has it under control. She’s fine, barely noticed a thing.”

 

Harry had mentioned how she couldn’t use a wand anymore and everyone had noticed the moments where she disconnected from reality. Frowning, Sirius asked if these waves of magic could harm them and breathed a little easier after hearing the answer.

 

Remus looked lost. He was the smartest Marauder but had very little understanding of truly old magic, the kind that Sirius had had nightmares about as a child. “What kind of magician is she?”

 

“Druid, maybe?” Sirius queried.

 

Vitaly’s laugh sounded dry and his eyes shone briefly. “Does she feel like one?”

 

“I wouldn’t know, would I?”

 

“Her magic is anchored to two worlds and feels gritty, visceral - that is not a druidic aura and you know it.”

 

Remus drank his tea so fast he probably burned his throat, but Sirius barely glanced at him, too busy processing what that meant.

 

Astoria was on the way to becoming a Priestess of the old ways, and until now, Sirius had thought - had _hoped_ \- they were extinct. Legends spoke of Morgana as one of them. Priestesses were powerful and dark witches who kept the balance between realms in check, back when the land sang with power and energy; before magicians were burned at the stake and volatile magic retreated to protect itself. They sacrificed much of themselves and dedicated their lives to specific entities whose existence had never been proven. Some called them Old Gods but they had different names in every culture. Sirius’ family thought they were merely powerful spirits, others believed otherwise. Nobody knew for sure. Nobody, but a portrait of Ignotus Peverell.

 

This meant the young teenager was being watched by whatever lurked beyond their world and if she could step into this other realm, she could be followed back out. And if Ignotus thought himself a capable teacher, surely her magic must be linked with Death (Sirius still had issues comprehending that the Tale of the Three Brothers wasn't fiction. Hadn't that been a nasty discovery).

 

She needed to learn, and she needed to do it fast, or her powers would need to be bound. Sirius already knew he would fight to let her choose; he’d had enough of people telling him what to do and believed Astoria was never truly given a chance at independence before Lilium. 

 

Sirius’ brain was overworking itself while Vitaly explained the situation to Remus. And even if it scared him, he couldn’t help but let hope blossom within him. With a Priestess on their side and Harry’s stolen education, Voldemort would fall to his knees and beg for mercy.

 

 

***

  


Miss Sundheim did not appreciate being out of work, but she would not let House Elves dictate what she was supposed to do - that is, back off and stop interfering. After much arguing, resulting in Kreacher wailing in distress until Draco ordered him to clean the floor above their rooms, the Squib accepted an offer from Andromeda: help the students learn Muggle subjects like Mister Hammer was already doing, and teach them Norwegian. In Draco’s case, she would check his progress and instruct him separately, as he was already able to converse rather well.

 

They weren’t the only ones who already missed electricity: Theo mourned the oven, though he decided to start learning about cooking with magic in the meantime. Terence, Millicent and Blaise had grown accustomed to morning cartoons, Daphne liked the heater in her room and Draco enjoyed listening to music while cuddling with Harry. The Wizarding World just didn’t have the same enjoyable songs, and when he figured out how to turn the stereo on, he and Harry had gone on a journey together. Harry hadn’t been allowed to listen to anything as a child and mostly had to suffer through Dudley’s horrendous choices, and Draco had been happy to share this moment with him. It had been an otherworldly experience. They had both fallen in love with Alice Cooper’s _Poison_ . Now, they absolutely adored relaxing with Pink Floyd, and the guitar riffs of Metallica made Draco want to learn to play. Though he didn’t admit it openly, he rather liked Madonna and was thankful that Harry agreed. They had both shivered upon hearing _Like a Prayer_ for the first time. As soon as they learned that they would not be able to use the stereo until further notice, they ganged up on Sirius and begged him to find a way to make it work or to use magic to read their CDs without ruining them.

 

Susan and Astoria were the only ones who didn’t care whether their bath water was heated magically or not.

 

Despite their eventful morning, their lives went back to normal as soon as they ate breakfast. They cursed the giant ice patch that had formed overnight and caused them all to lose their footing on the way to school, they worked on their Conjuration spells in Transfiguration and complained about their homework while Harry's lack of progress for the Animagus transformation frustrated him. He was still seeing a strange texture on his skin, but that was as far as it went. Draco and Terence were struggling with a particularly tough Arithmancy assignment and Blaise was napping and drooling on the pages of his Charms book.

 

It was still early when Andromeda interrupted their activities with news from Britain. Her gaze was harsh, so unlike her, as she handed the Daily Prophet to Terence. It was already a few days old. The teens crowded around their older friend to read the headline.

 

 

 

_MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN_

 

_Speaking to reporters in his private office, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, confirmed that ten high-security prisoners escaped in the early hours of yesterday evening, and that he has already informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the dangerous nature of these individuals._

 

_"We find ourselves, most unfortunately, in the same position we were two and a half years ago when the murderer Sirius Black escaped," said Fudge last night. "Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that Black, as the first person ever to break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help others follow in his footsteps. We think it likely that these individuals, who include Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around Black as their leader. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals and beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached."_

 

 

 

Draco’s breath caught in his throat. He felt nauseous, too warm, and could only think of one name: Bellatrix Lestrange.

 

The edges of his vision darkened. Blinking didn’t make the blackness go away, it worsened it. Someone rubbed his back and a voice tried to anchor him. He did his very best to follow its instructions, to no avail. Right now, he just wanted his mother.

 

When he regained consciousness, it was to the sound of Healer Crowfeet’s humming.

 

The man stopped when he saw him open his eyes. “Welcome back. How do you feel?”

 

“Like crap,” Draco groaned, watching how much his right hand shook. “What time is it?”

 

Crowfeet pointed at the clock. Harry must have been at dinner. Draco wondered what it took to make him leave his side. “Do I have to stay the night?”

 

“Not if you go to bed early. I can Apparate you to the dining hall, let me just test your blood pressure.”

 

The tingly feeling of a Charm circled his upper arm and Crowfeet’s enchanted quill recorded the results. Draco took the man’s arm and braced himself for a rough bit of travelling, nearly colliding with Sirius upon arrival. Just the man he needed to see.

 

The men greeted each other and Kreacher pushed his new Master towards an empty table, where a bowl of chicken soup awaited. “Master Draco must eat. Kreacher wanted to make Master Draco’s favourite, yes he did, but nasty blood-traitor said Master Draco would only have soup.”

 

Draco smiled. He had been surprised to be given the old Elf but he didn’t mind much. At least, he didn’t mutter as much now that he served someone he liked. “I’m not very hungry so that’s fine. Thank you, Kreacher.”

 

The Elf’s nose almost touched the floor when he bowed, and he left at the same time as the Healer. Sirius sat near the teenager.

 

“Harry is upstairs. I almost had to tie him up, he really wanted to stay with you.”

 

“I’m sorry for scaring you.” He kept his eyes down and ate slowly, the broth warming him up. “I should be stronger than this.”

 

“It has nothing to do with strength. Before I ran away from home, I used to have the same episodes. Regulus was there to help me when things got so bad that our parents terrified both of us. I thought it would end with Hogwarts. I had amazing friends who loved me - it didn’t stop. It didn’t happen often and I was good at hiding it, but sometimes one of them would still find me. I realised that turning into Padfoot avoided a full-blown attack.”

 

Draco counted the dried herbs floating on the surface of his soup. Idly, he thought he should probably name his weasel-self, and promised to try and change next time. If he could avoid worrying Harry and waking up in the Infirmary, he would embrace the weasel in him.

 

Sirius moved closer, gently pressed his palm on his shoulder and spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “There’s a notice in the newspaper. You’ve been declared dead - your father called off the Aurors. If you’re alright with it, I’d like to adopt you. I’m very proud of you.”

 

He wouldn’t cry, but he was tempted. So, he just bit his lower lip. The letters would finally stop… he decided to burn anything bearing the Malfoy crest. “When are we doing it?”

 

Sirius let him lay his head on his shoulder. “Tomorrow?”

 

He smiled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame the radio station Galway Bay FM for Madonna. They broadcasted an old song when a coworker and I drove home on Saturday and we ended up singing along the whole time. We usually listen to Alice Cooper when we don't forget to take the CD with us (or the tape! Before my coworker bought a new car last year, it still had a tape player).


	19. Adoption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is slightly shorter than usual since I wanted to get the adoption out of the way :)

_SCANDINAVIAN MINISTRY for MAGIC_

_Jurisdiction: NORWAY_

_Branch: OSLO_

 

_On this 19th day of January 1996, I, Sirius Orion Black, Head of the House of Black, hereby adopt Draco Lucius Malfoy, born June 5th, 1980, as my Son._

 

_On this 19th day of January 1996, I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, hereby renounce my name and accept Sirius Orion Black, Head of the House of Black, as my Father._

 

_Signature (adoptive parent): Sirius Orion Black_

_Signature (child, if above ten (10) years of age): Draco Sirius Black_

 

_Witnessed by: Andromeda Black Tonks, Vitaly Gnedykh, Camilla Ann Nordrum, Amelia Bones_

 

 

Drops of blood fell into an old metallic cup held by Andromeda and Sirius healed his and Draco’s palms. The mixture inside the cup bubbled and turned purple, its fumes smelling like an unpleasant mix of lemon and iron. The Norwegian Representative and Amelia muttered a spell and white strands of light emerged from their wand, wrapping themselves around Draco and Sirius. At their feet, the circle of runes traced by Vitaly lit up.

 

The Head of the House of Black drank the Blood Adoption potion and offered the other half to his cousin - his _son_.

 

When Andromeda took the cup back, the strands of light shone brighter and brighter, then vanished entirely. Sirius stepped forward and hugged the teenager who buried his face against his chest.

 

Madam Nordrum smiled. “Congratulations. Please let me know if there is anything else you need me for in the future.”

 

“We will. Thank you so much for your help.” Amelia shook her hand.

 

“I wonder how the Black family tree looks now,” Andromeda mused, using a Cleaning Charm on the cup while Vitaly was busy erasing the runes on the stone floor.

 

With a hand in Draco’s hair, the new father snorted and rolled his eyes. “Probably like I followed our greatest tradition: knocking up my first cousin.”

 

“Must you, really?” The boy took a step back, disgust clear on his handsome face. “Honestly, that is a terrible mental image!” He looked around. “Is there a mirror somewhere?”

 

Andromeda Transfigured the cup into one and handed it to him, looking at his face with a small frown. “You still look like you. I’ve always thought you took more after Cissa, but I believe- yes, the shape of your eyes and eyebrows are Sirius’.”

 

Draco scrutinised himself, touching his hair and finding it slightly less straight - it would probably curl if it got wet and he wasn’t looking forward to it. He attempted to sneer and found out he must have gotten his superior expressions from Lucius, because he didn’t recognize them now. He caught Sirius staring, misty-eyed, and mouthed a “thank you”, earning a wink in return.

 

 

***

 

 

Harry was merging a rare core with a beautifully carved piece of wood when Draco ran into his workshop, beaming, his hair messy and his cheeks reddened by the cold. He struck a dramatic pose and raised his left eyebrow, which reminded Harry of a blonde version of Sirius.

 

“What do you think?” he exclaimed.

 

Having rarely seen him so ecstatic, the Boy-Who-Lived grinned in delight. “You look amazing. Merlin, is your hair curling?” He left the wand on the table and approached him before twisting a strand of hair between his fingers. With a sniff, Draco blamed the snow. Harry laughed. “So, you’ll spend even more time in the bathroom, now?”

 

“A Son of the House of Black must take care of his appearance.”

 

“Yes, of course.” His eyes focused on the details he was unfamiliar with. He was quite relieved that his boyfriend looked so much like his mother. “It’s so weird. Someone who doesn’t know you wouldn’t notice anything. Your nose is still pointy.”

 

“You love my pointy nose.”

 

“I do, it’s cute.” He wrapped his arms around him. “I’m so happy for you.”

 

“I just wonder what Mother will think. And I am _not_ cute.”

 

Harry kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry you couldn’t tell her. I’m also sorry she is in a marriage where she has no rights when it comes to her own son, even if it made things easier today.”

 

With Draco’s disownment, his letters didn’t make it past the wards at the Manor. The last missive he received from Narcissa explained it and she seemed to trust that he was in good hands. Harry only hoped the lack of communication wouldn’t take its toll on the other boy.

 

Draco disentangled himself and peered at the wand. “What were you working on?”

 

“Taking a break from Astoria’s staff. This is Birch, fourteen inches-”

 

“Compensating for something, Potter? The core?”

 

Harry chuckled and elbowed him in the ribs. “Horned Serpent horn.”

 

Draco whistled and picked up the wand, admiring the soft glow emanating from within the small cracks in the wood. “It’s beautiful. Good for Parselmagic?”

 

“Supposed to be.” He gently took it from him and gasped, having not touched it since he started working on it.

 

It felt like opening a window on a sunny morning and breathing in fresh air; like Draco’s kisses and like Sirius’ bark-like laughter. His magic flew between his body and the wand like a slow but powerful stream of warm water, rippling under his skin. The core sang to him.

 

He was quite certain that if this wand was broken, he might not recover from its loss. It was his, even more than the Holly wand, though he wasn’t certain he could have used it before the Yule ritual. Dazed, he removed his temporary wand from the holster at his wrist (a Christmas gift from Theo), pocketed it, and secured the new one in its place.

 

When he returned his attention to Draco, he found him observing the staff, tapping a finger against his mouth. “Which cores did you try?”

 

“Thestral hair, Crow feather, and every the basics from Ollivander and Gregorovitch. It needs to be associated with Death, apparently. The Phoenix feather is promising, I just don’t know what to pair it with.”

 

“Something from a hag? A ghoul?”

 

“Ghoul nail!” James Potter suggested, having just come back to his portrait.

 

The teens exchanged a glance and shuddered. The portrait smirked. “Afraid to get your hands dirty?”

 

“I’m not harvesting it. Still gross. By the way, Draco is officially Sirius’ son as of today. Thought you’d want to know.”

 

James rubbed his hands together and bounced. “Oooh! He and Moony were discussing it. I didn’t think it would happen so soon! I’m so glad! I need to tell your grandparents.”

 

He vanished, to their amusement. He was still acting like a kid sometimes. Harry grabbed one of the order forms supplied by the Russian apothecary and dipped his quill in the inkpot he kept inside a drawer. “Alright, Ghoul it is. Something related to protection and good for Charms for you, I think.”

 

Draco nodded excitedly and Harry planted a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll just order a whole bunch of stuff again.”   

 

“Oh, you missed a wonderful scene between Madam Bones and Susan - she came to say hi and Susan was reading a Dark Arts book in Terence’s lap.”

 

“That sounds awkward.”

 

“Daphne is so glad to have something to gossip about.”

 

Humming in agreement, a smirk stretching his lips, Harry Vanished the dust from his green sweater, _Nox_ ’ed the lights and followed his boyfriend outside, the order for more ingredients tucked into his jeans pocket.

 

He found Hedwig napping above the fireplace in the reception hall, where Millicent was busy braiding Astoria’s hair and discussing the phases of the moon. Draco was dragged away from Harry by Daphne and Blaise who were eager to know everything about the adoption.

 

“Hey, Hedwig,” the black-haired boy murmured, stroking her soft feathers. The bird blinked. “Sorry for waking you. Can you bring this to the apothecary? I know it’s a long way.”

 

She stared at him like he had insulted her capabilities and pecked his fingers. It wouldn’t be her first flight there. Clasping the letter in her beak, she flew away as soon as her owner opened the sliding door.

 

“She’s feisty,” Theo remarked from his spot near the now dead television.

 

“You’re just saying that because she bit you.”

 

He made a show of baring his neck. “I still have a scar!”

 

“How traumatizing.”

 

“Merlin, you sound just like Draco.”

 

Harry chuckled and turned around to watch his boyfriend, who was covered in glitter (it looked suspiciously like the sparkly fiend Blaise had encountered when they had decorated the hotel for Yule). The Slytherins were congratulating him, unguarded, sharing biscuits and forcing them into his mouth. The Gryffindor felt laughter bubble up in his throat. He could spend hours observing him surrounded by his friends, happy and without a care in the world.

 

“Do you mind that he was adopted, and you weren’t?”

 

He didn’t look at Theo but shrugged. “I don’t need a paper to know Sirius loves me. I’m lucky no one can claim me; I’m sure if Lucius wasn’t such an asshole, it wouldn’t have come to that. And now? If I was adopted, I’d be Draco’s _brother_! No thanks.”

 

“Indeed. Well, I better go see if Susan and Terence want biscuits. They’re pouting.”

 

Deciding that if the Hufflepuff fought with her aunt, she might need some support, Harry blew a kiss to Draco and followed Theo upstairs, carrying a box of delicious homemade treats.

 

 

***

 

 

_Mate,_

 

_The ferret is dead! Couldn’t have happened to a nicer bloke. Thought you’d like to know!_

 

_Ron_

 

 

***

 

 

_Of all the horrible, insensitive, STUPID things you could have written, you chose this? What’s wrong with you? Don’t write to me again unless you decide to start using your brain!_

_I can’t believe you would say something like that._

 

 

***

 

 

_Pronglet,_

 

_Ron told me what happened, and he doesn’t understand what he did wrong. I can now add him to the short list of people I’ve punched on the nose._

 

_Malfoy was a petty, bigoted, spoiled snob, but we’re all young. He could have grown up to be a good man - yes, I know you’ll say it would have been unlikely, but now we’ll never know, and even though it drives some people crazy, I’m grieving for him. He didn’t deserve to be kidnapped and killed._

 

_When the notice was released, I must say most of us didn’t even see it. The Azkaban breakout was much more prominent. It was only later, in the library, that Parkinson started sobbing. I was rather surprised his parents didn’t wait until the next day to have it on the front page. Instead, it was simply lost in the middle of other obituaries._

 

_That evening, we arranged a candlelight vigil  on the Quidditch pitch when Umbridge was at the Ministry. The Slytherin team thought it’d would be fitting because Malfoy enjoyed playing (it never seemed like it, but what do we know). Professors Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, Vector, Babbling, Sprout and even Hagrid were there._

 

_The whole of Slytherin House came with some of the old Quidditch teams from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. I attended with Ginny, Fred, George, Alicia, Lavender and Neville. Luna, a Ravenclaw who is in the Defence Club, even sang for him - I was told it was a Pureblood lullaby that he probably heard as a child._

 

_Should I feel guilty for crying for a bully?_

 

_Love,_

 

_H._

 

 

***

 

 

_Dear Susan,_

 

_First, please know that I love you and only have your best interests at heart. It was quite a shock to realise you were in a relationship and I wish you had told me. I trust Terence, not his family, and it scares me. I also understand you are having lessons on the Dark Arts and I hope you are being careful - it doesn't mean I have to like it but I believe I have raised you well enough to know not to practice what you read._

_I'm sorry for patronising you when we talked. I will visit again soon and I want to have a real discussion about anything you are willing to share._

_With all my love,_

 

_Your Aunt_

 

 

***

 

 

_Draco,_

 

_While I am not in a position to receive a reply from you, I wish to convey my thoughts on a recent discovery._

 

_I have seen the Black Family Tapestry today. I can only imagine that spending time with a Gryffindor dunderhead has dulled your senses and I expect an explanation when we meet again._

 

_Your godfather_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore knows Draco isn't dead obviously, but he must keep up appearances and not appearing at a vigil for a student would be suspicious.
> 
> Also, regarding Amelia's reaction, she might not have said anything if she hadn't been slapped in the face with a "my sweet niece is dating the son of a Death Eater AND reading about the Dark Arts, what's wrong with her".


	20. Meanwhile, in Wizarding Britain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter: suicide scare.

_Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England_

 

 

A crystal glass held between perfectly manicured fingers, a long white-blond braid without a single hair out of place, a black cane with a platinum snake handle and a prominent signet ring: Lucius Abraxas Malfoy looked just as intimidating as he always did.

 

Unseen, two House Elves observed him, paying close attention to his movements, ready to anticipate his orders and wishes, and eager to satisfy him.

 

Not doing so would only result in pain. Disobeying him meant ironing their fingers. They all remembered Dobby and his battered, bruised body, or Dippy, who was asked to punish herself one final time and crawled inside the oven.

 

The House Elves of Malfoy Manor lived to serve; they did so proudly. But in the darkness of the night, when they had a moment to sleep, they sometimes wondered if every wizard treated their servants as badly as Master Lucius.

 

Mopsy had been a Black Family Elf, given to Mistress Narcissa when she married Master Lucius. She had raised Master Draco from infancy. They had a bond. She was the only Elf who knew her little Draco wasn’t dead, the only one who understood he had run away, had been saved by Mistress Narcissa. She would end her own life rather than betray them. So, from the shadows she and Zippy were hiding in, she pretended to be interested in Master Lucius’ well-being.

 

The crack of Human Apparition and the vibration coursing through the wards as they accepted the visitor made her tense up. None of the Elves appreciated Master Lucius recent guests. Zippy shifted and was gone in a second, taking the glass of wine left on the table by their Master who was now leaving the room in a hurry.

 

Mopsy followed Zippy to ensure the chair was put back in its proper place and the table was spotless, before concealing her presence once more when a wave of darkness penetrated the room.

 

The Dark Lord was soon standing on the expensive carpet, his naked feet leaving traces of dead skin behind with each step he took. Mopsy gave a full body shudder at the sight. Behind the resurrected man, Master Lucius kept his head bowed in submission and stayed perfectly still when his Lord turned around.

 

“Lucius, am I correct in assuming that your beloved wife will not be joining us tonight?”

 

The Elf remembered the night of his resurrection with distinct clarity, for it had resulted in her Master nearly dying from his wounds. Today, still, his hands sometimes shook with the aftereffects of repeated exposure to the _Cruciatus_. Mopsy didn’t know for certain why the Dark Lord saw fit to torture his servants to such an extent and sometimes thought Master Lucius was Voldemort’s House Elf. Her ears twitched as she slid into the shadows.

 

“Yes, My Lord,” Master Lucius murmured reverently.

 

Voldemort took a seat at the head of the table and a cup of Earl Grey popped into existence, prepared to his liking by the kitchen Elves. Master Lucius was kneeling at his feet, his robes catching some of the repulsive flakes left on the carpet. If he knew he was being watched, he would kill the Elves who witnessed his humiliation. Unless he didn’t consider it this way? Mopsy had trouble understanding her Master.

 

She winced at the dirty smudge the Dark Lord’s thumb created on the cup when he held it.

 

“How are you ensuring her survival?”

 

At that, Mopsy lowered her head and clenched her fist. She had been expressly forbidden from entering her Mistress’ room and had not seen her for almost a month. Mistress Narcissa was alive and healthy, the bond told her so, but something seemed slightly wrong, like the tug any nanny Elf would feel when their charge was having a nightmare.

 

“She is getting the necessary nutrients spelled into her body, My Lord.”

 

The Dark Lord clucked his tongue. “Move her to the dungeons. I will not risk her being discovered, or perhaps you are hoping she will be? Perhaps you are too weak to hurt her?”

 

“My Lord-”

 

“ _CRUCIO!_ ”

 

Mopsy returned to her little cot in the attic and cried, furious at the bond that prevented her from disobeying a direct order. What were they doing to Mistress Narcissa? How could she help her?

 

 

***

 

 

_Hogwarts, Gryffindor Common Room_

 

 

Neville used to believe he would have been better off living as a Squib rather than attend a school where teachers and students alike mocked him or acted like he didn’t exist. But then he remembered he wouldn’t have survived his great-uncle Algie’s attempts at forcing his magic to react if he had been one and he carefully and methodically placed his dark thoughts inside a tiny box in his mind.

 

He also wouldn’t have met Harry.

 

They weren’t close friends, but Harry stood up to Malfoy for him. He never laughed at him, never told him he was a disgrace, and never pushed him into anything he didn’t want to participate in. Neville wished he had made more efforts to get to know him before he left.

 

A muscle in his jaw twitched and these thoughts, too, joined the others in the box. He was too angry at the Wizarding World, at the _Prophet_ , at the Ministry and at his own grandmother for ruining the boy’s life or letting it happen, and the current ambience at Hogwarts often turned his idle ruminations into depression.

 

He was currently helping a First Year soak her hand in Murtlap Essence while Hermione, seating nearby, clutched her quill so hard it was about to break. “You’ll be okay,” he murmured, and the First Year sniffed.

 

He looked around. Dean, Seamus and Colin were playing Exploding Snap and receiving death glares from Angelina Johnson who was trying to write an essay while Parvati was painting her nails beside her. He noted the absence of Fred and George, which only announced mayhem, and couldn’t help but frown at Ron who was brooding near the fireplace. Everyone in Gryffindor Tower knew what had happened thanks to a very loud argument between him and Hermione, that had ended with Ginny cursing him with the Bat-Bogey Hex. Neville had given her a Chocolate Frog afterwards.

 

As a Pureblood raised in a traditional family, he understood the pressure Malfoy had been under all too well. Himself had relatives who weren’t entirely against Voldemort’s ideas and while most of them had been banned from attending family events, he still remembered when they attempted to sway his grandmother so she would vote for anti-Muggleborn laws. It didn’t end well for them; however, it had granted Neville a glimpse of what life must be like for the children of Blood supremacists. He imagined that Malfoy had not learnt to think for himself or was too scared to do anything about it. Neville couldn’t stand up to his great-uncle or his grandmother about simple things like getting a new wand instead of using his father’s; if he had Lucius Malfoy breathing down his neck, he would probably do anything he asked.

 

Perhaps he was wrong, and Malfoy was rotten to the core; he wouldn’t ever know, would he? The boy would never have a chance to prove them all wrong.

 

Now that the young girl’s hand was taken care of (damn the Toad and her detentions!), Neville stood up and joined Lavender near the window with the rest of the medicine. She had requested that the younger kids be taken care of first and was currently seething and cradling her hand. Umbridge certainly hadn’t appreciated Lavender’s opinion on a woman’s place in the world which, Neville thought, was strange for such an ambitious person. That a career-woman who managed to be Under Secretary to the Minister and took so much pride in it, would tell teenage girls that their aspiration in life should be to be pretty and make babies made no sense, but then again, Umbridge herself was a nasty enigma.

 

Ron had gotten hurt again because he didn’t understand why Lavender was angry.

 

“I might be beautiful, and I might or might not want kids one day but that is not all I’m good for!” She had yelled, and promptly kicked his shins hard enough to make him fall.

 

Neville, who wasn’t blind and had noticed that Hermione seemed to have a crush on the redhead, guessed that this episode caused the crush to die a painful death.

 

He let Lavender soak her hand in the mixture after sitting with her. “Are you alright?”

 

She sighed. “I just hate that woman! I hate everyone who thinks I’m an airhead. Is there something wrong with enjoying taking care of myself and gossiping about boys?”

 

“I wouldn’t know.” Neville moved his legs to be more comfortable. “It’s not like we can judge intelligence that way.”

 

“It got worse because I’m dating Greg.”

 

Neville smiled wistfully. To him, House rivalry had always been nonsensical, but few shared his views. Gregory Goyle had often been referred to as troll-like, born with a myriad of issues because his parents, grandparents and ancestors were too closely related - yet this was not completely true. He couldn’t read well, and his magic wasn’t exactly powerful, but he treated Lavender like she was the most precious treasure in the universe without thinking she was a fragile little thing. To Neville, it said a lot. Sure, they didn’t have conversations about the meaning of life, but they cared for each other and seemed happy.

 

Goyle didn’t choose to be born from Death Eaters.

 

“You know,” Lavender said quietly, “Greg is worried about Pansy. He said Draco was her best friend.”

 

The boy didn’t reply, wondering where she was going with this.

 

“He told me that Tracey hasn’t seen her in the dorms, and he thinks she’s not sleeping. Did you see her in class? She’s always crying.”

 

Parkinson did look horrible lately, but he imagined anyone in her situation would. He nodded and when it seemed that Lavender didn’t feel like talking anymore, he joined Hermione on the couch and requested the Marauder’s Map.

 

She merely stared at him and he shrugged. “Harry liked looking at it in the dorms. I asked about it. And I’ve seen you using it for the Defence Club.”

 

She looked around, stood up and opened the portrait of the Fat Lady, Neville on her heels. Once they were alone, she opened the Map. Neville hadn’t seen it up close before and he thought it was a beautiful piece of parchment, but he was too curious about Pansy to admire it for long. He told her who he was searching for and they scoured the Map together, smirking when they noticed Peeves inside Umbridge’s office and Dennis Creevey moving quickly near the kitchens, with Mrs Norris tailing him.

 

Hermione suddenly pointed at Pansy’s name and the relatively relaxed mood Neville had been in vanished instantly. “What is she doing?”

 

“She could just need some time alone,” Hermione suggested but the Longbottom heir understood from her tone of voice that she didn’t really believe it. There were many places where you could be alone in Hogwarts.

 

“Or not. Let’s go.”

 

It would be curfew soon, but they still had enough time not to worry about who they might encounter in the corridors. They ran.

 

Neville wasn’t exactly fit or used to efforts, though the numerous stairs in the school helped him greatly over the years, but he felt like he was flying and barely noticed the pain in his side or his laboured breathing. By the time they reached the top of the tower, they were both shaking, sweaty and red-faced, and Pansy was sneering at them.

 

Neville was so relieved to see her alive that he let out a wheeze. Hermione supported herself against the wall.

 

“A swot and a Squib, how quaint.”

 

Her tone lacked its usual bite. She had dark circles under her eyes, wore none of her usual makeup and her short black hair was a mess. She wasn’t wearing her outer robes and the skin of her arms was covered in goosebumps.

 

“We were just worried about you.” The Gryffindor girl stepped away from the wall but kept her distances.

 

“Well, go back to your tower and be worried on your own! I don’t need your pity!”

 

“We’re not leaving. Parkinson, you-”

 

“For Merlin’s sake, I’m not going to jump! What’s wrong with you, are you stalking me?”

 

Neville let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and swallowed his nervousness. He was getting better at social interactions, but they still stressed him out. “Goyle wondered where you were going every night and I guess he didn’t feel like asking you directly.”

 

“We’re sorry about Mal- Draco,” Hermione whispered.

 

Pansy’s composure began to crack. She chewed on her lower lip, her gaze fixated on the roof and her arms crossed tightly against her chest. “He would spit on you for that, Granger.”

 

“I still wish he wasn’t gone.”

 

“Insults turn you on? Dating you must be interesting.” Pansy’s smirk didn’t reach her red-rimmed eyes and Neville’s cheeks started to burn. He choked on his saliva when Hermione responded by quirking an eyebrow and giving the other girl a once-over.

 

“Why, Parkinson, are you offering?”

 

The Slytherin laughed dryly and Neville was glad to see some life return to her expression - he now wanted to run back to Gryffindor Tower and forget what he had witnessed, but he decided against it, just in case she turned on them or decided to jump.

 

With a full body shiver, Pansy headed towards them. “Hogsmeade, next Saturday, Granger.” She went back inside and left two bewildered and blushing Fifth Year Gryffindors behind.

 

“What just happened?” Hermione asked.

 

“Not sure I even want to know… are you going with her, then?”

 

She gazed at the moon, her fingers playing with the hem of her sleeves. “Maybe. Yes.”

 

 

***

 

 

These days, Ron tried to spend as much time away from Gryffindor Tower as possible. He couldn’t believe how quickly everything crumbled around him this year, why Hermione even spoke with these slimy snakes, why anyone would ever be sorry for bloody _Malfoy_ , or worried for these gits who went missing in the summer. He thought there must be some sort of Compulsion Charm forcing his friends to act this way and tolerate those who should never have been allowed inside Hogwarts? Slytherins should drown in the Black Lake. Why did that House still exist, anyway? It only created monsters.

 

Even Harry was affected. How was this possible? How could he defend people who worshipped his parents’ murderer? Every single one of them was rotten to the core. And so many of them attended their Defence Club!

And since Harry was gone, he was the only one who could still be a hero.

 

He knew exactly what to do.

 

 

***

 

 

When Ron fell asleep later that night, the word SNEAK started to appear on his forehead.


	21. Aftermath

Toppy brought a fragrant pot of tea and a plate of freshly-baked biscuits to the men and women gathered in a warded conference room. Fawkes was dozing off on the back of an empty chair while Dumbledore fiddled with a remote, intrigued. Sirius wondered if they should have held this meeting in the Dueling room where no Muggle device would have caught the eye of the Headmaster. 

 

Remus struggled to keep himself awake after a night spent running outside. Moony adored playing in the snow, but when he had transformed back into a human, he had been naked and freezing and had cursed the full moon under his breath. He had also muttered about the Arctic winter and its stupidly long nights that meant his transformations lasted much longer than usual. He did ask himself if it meant he would be fully human for more than one month in a row in the summer. What if he just moved to the North Pole for half the year and spent the rest of the time in Antarctica?

 

Amelia, Andromeda and Ted were discussing Fudge’s latest smear campaign when Tonks and Filius Flitwick came into the room and locked the door behind them. The Metamorphmagus’ presence had been requested to bring the Half-Goblin to Norway and share the Secret of their location, and she took it as a well-deserved break from the mess that was the Ministry at the moment.

 

Dumbledore finally let go of the remote and looked at everyone above his glasses, completely out of place in such a Muggle decor. “Thank you all for coming. I know this is unusual but take it as an unofficial Order meeting: the same confidentiality applies. As you all know, a few days ago, Dolores Umbridge found out about a secret Defence Club within the school.” He looked at Flitwick who sighed deeply and stared at the table with a frown on his face. “The Club’s existence was betrayed by one of its members who hoped to get Slytherin students expelled. As you know, one of Dolores’ Educational Decree forbids gatherings within the school. It seems that this member acted in anger and did not realise his friends would risk the same sanctions. I stepped in, claimed responsibility and this, unfortunately, led to my immediate dismissal. There is now a warrant for my arrest; Cornelius believes I was raising an army to take down the Ministry.”

 

“Merlin’s balls!” Ted yelled, wide-eyed. “Was anyone expelled?”

 

“Surprisingly, no. But Filius, who was asked to sponsor the Defence Club, was asked to leave.” Dumbledore crossed his fingers and twiddled his thumbs. 

 

“She used it as an excuse to get rid of a Half-Goblin,” the tiny Professor explained. 

 

Sirius snarled and Remus’ eyes briefly glowed. Andromeda placed a hand on her cousin’s arm to prevent him from lashing out before they heard everything. 

 

“Who did this?” she murmured.

 

Dumbledore shook his head, the twinkle absent from his irises. “Ronald Weasley. He has always been quick to anger and his hatred of Slytherin House is stronger than most. I’m afraid he has yet to learn about what his actions could lead to. Why, he reminds me of a young Sirius Black.”

 

The black-haired man averted his glance. “I got better,” he muttered. 

 

“I’d rather not send Ronald to Azkaban to force him to mature.”

 

Remus rose and offered them all a cup of tea. “He gets his opinions from Molly.”

 

“Thanks,” Ted said, accepting his cup. “She is rather set in her ways. She was never the same after her brothers died. Prejudice never helps anyone.”

 

“I thought things were getting better, Headmaster. Harry told me how the Houses came together for this club, Gryffindors are dating snakes, the Claws offer extra-tutoring - what happened to make him snap?” Sirius continued.

 

“Thank you for the tea, Remus. I would say it all became too much for Mister Weasley.”

 

The Charms Professor nodded sagely. “When I supervised their meetings, he made a point of ignoring anyone wearing green.”

 

The Werewolf added sugar to his tea, scratched the back of his head and stifled a yawn. “I don’t remember him being that bad. Wasn’t there a contract that would prevent anyone from speaking about it to outsiders?”

 

“I enchanted a parchment and required every member to sign it. Unfortunately, I didn’t ask Miss Granger and Mister Weasley to do so, as they were the Club leaders. I thought they’d be the last ones we would need to worry about. Mister Weasley only signed the initial parchment enchanted by Miss Granger when they registered everyone’s interest.”

 

“Let’s get back on track, I have more to tell you,” Dumbledore interrupted just as Filius’ expression turned weary.

 

They focused on the Headmaster once more, though Sirius kept moving in his chair.

 

“Dolores is not done yet. We can expect a fast decline in the quality of Hogwarts education this year. She is targeting Hagrid and Sybil, and given her hatred of practical magic, I fear she will soon forbid anything but theory. Minerva and Severus are likely next on her list. Filius here is offering his expertise for Lilium until he can go back to Hogwarts.”

 

Sirius smiled. “Draco will be delighted, he’s interested in a Charms Mastery, did you know?”

 

The tiny Professor lit up and squeaked. “Draco? He’s alive?”

 

“Nymphadora, You didn’t tell him?” Andromeda queried, her eyebrows high on her forehead.

 

“I, er, forgot?”

 

“She told me about everyone else but neglected to mention him. Oh, I’m so glad!” He clapped his hands. “He was my best student. Miss Granger received better marks overall for the quality of her essays but Mister Malfoy’s magic  _ loves _ Charms!”

 

“Indeed.” The twinkling eyes were back in full force. “I expect weekly updates from Minerva or Severus. With the Muggleborn law in effect, the situation might quickly degenerate. You know she is, if not a Voldemort sympathizer, still a blood purist with unlimited power over Hogwarts. Our Muggleborn students should be extremely careful. If she finds ground to expel them, the Ministry will follow the law.”

 

Tonks’ hair turned yellow and slowly eased back into magenta. “Wouldn’t that be enough to push other countries into action?”

 

Sirius turned his attention to Dumbledore. “The ICW could react, doesn't this law violate a bunch of treaties?” 

 

“It does.”

 

“Fudge would withdraw Great Britain from the ICW before they could tell him what to do,” Amelia replied, and Remus groaned. “He could argue that he’s protecting the Statute of Secrecy and he would likely win.”

 

Grabbing the Werewolf's arm, Sirius groaned in distress. “Why do we have so many cowards governing us, Moony?”

 

“Don’t whine in my ear!”

 

“Ah. Sorry. Full moon, sensitive little ears. Forgot.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

Flitwick giggled and Tonks let out a loud snort, resulting in Andromeda hiding her face in her hands. Dumbledore knew they weren’t taking the news lightly in any way; laughing or changing the topic had always been a way to cope within the Order. Amelia didn’t seem surprised, though she had only joined a few hours ago. The ex-Headmaster drank his tea and woke Fawkes, who landed on his shoulder and trilled. 

 

“I must leave now but will send Fawkes with news when I get them. Amelia, dear, I believe it is time to travel the world.”

 

“Convincing other countries to help?” Ted asked.

 

“Alerting them, at the very least.”

 

The ex-Head of the DMLE excused herself to go talk to Susan. She didn’t know how long their mission would last, after all. Sirius was reminded that he would likely be called should Dumbledore require his presence for the Horcrux hunt, and Andromeda led Filius to the hotel to find him a room and explain what her daughter didn’t share about the school, their living conditions and Astoria’s magic. The Half-Goblin was looking forward to meeting his fellow teachers and to start teaching Advanced Charms to his most gifted student in recent years.

 

 

***

 

 

“Flitwick hugged me!”

 

Theo, who had been drinking pumpkin juice, spit it all back out through his nostrils while Millicent dissolved into uncontrollable giggles. Susan  _ Vanished _ the mess. 

 

Draco sent them a glare and turned to Harry, who was smirking. “He hugged me!”

 

“Well, he thought you were dead.”

 

He sat beside his boyfriend and pretended to pout. Harry agreed with Millicent: it was hilarious. The blonde was still grateful that no one had been there to witness the Professor squealing, running towards him and attaching himself to his legs. Draco was not used to hugs from anyone but his mother, Sirius, and Harry. And because of this incident, he couldn’t help but feel guilty about those who thought him deceased. What about his friends? His expression must have slipped because the laughter stopped and Harry’s arm found its way around his waist. He leaned into his touch.

 

“Should I write to Pansy?”

 

“Is it safe?” Susan asked. She was more relaxed since her aunt asked to speak to her. Draco could only hope they had cleared their misunderstanding because the girl had been in a foul mood lately and he was quite tired of it.

 

Astoria and Daphne nodded. “Father gets our letters just fine.”

 

_ I’m not worried about her receiving my mail,  _ he thought.  _ What if someone else sees it? _ He could easily disguise his letters with the combination of Charms Harry taught him but could he risk his safety to soothe someone’s grief?

 

“Hey.” He blinked and shivered, Harry’s lips against his ear. “Do you trust her?”

 

He bit back a snarl. Yes, he trusted her with his life- oh.

 

“She would never betray me,” he declared.

 

Blaise agreed and called Toppy for a refill of Theo’s sad, empty glass. Millicent went back to admiring Astoria’s staff - a marvel that Harry had finally managed to craft to perfection. Olive wood, Phoenix Feather and Ghoul Nail cores, Black Coral set at its base and a series of engraved runes chosen with Ignotus Peverell’s help. After Harry had given it to her, she had reported feeling like actual roots anchored her and her staff to the earth. She told her friends how she could see life and death and how she was now part of Magic itself. 

 

Draco could tell it scared Daphne but he also knew her well enough to recognize the pride she took in her sister.

 

A piece of paper and a pen flew towards him, directed by Terence’s wand. Draco rolled his eyes.

 

“Go ahead,” the older student said. “I wouldn’t trust many people but Parkinson’s fine.”

 

“Can we make it so she can’t speak of it?”

 

Harry slumped on the table with a groan and Draco poked his shoulder. “Is that a yes? What does the omnipotent brain of the Saviour say?”

 

“S’not my brain. My brain is asleep.”

 

Sipping his drink, Theo winked (and Draco hoped he would somehow spit the juice again, if only for his entertainment). “It’s been working overtime. Someone’s crazy and wants to pass enough NEWTs to have two exams a day for the foreseeable future.”

 

“He just wants to show off to Granger.”

 

“Blaise, she will kill him. Literally. Cut him up in pieces and feed him to Mrs Norris.”

 

Daphne batted her eyelashes and tilted her head. “Can I watch?”

 

Lowering his head to be at the same height as his boyfriend, Draco continued to poke him, then stole his glasses (but didn’t put them on, he'd tried once and got a nice, persistent headache in return) and rubbed the tip of their nose together. “Please?”

 

“Mh. S’dark magic. Hogwarts wards won’t let it through.”

 

“Who says anything about Hogwarts? They have a Hogsmeade weekend coming up.”

 

Harry huffed. “I don’t like you anymore, Higgs. Flitwick might now. Something like the Defense Club contract.”

 

Draco’s index finger found Harry’s chin and forced him to move his head so he could swoop in and kiss him. He wondered what Pansy would think of his very Muggle paper and pen. He should send her a few; why wizards still used quills was beyond him. Why they insisted on using them at Lilium was worse.

 

 

***

 

 

_ Dear Pronglet, _

  
  


_ The Toad tried to expel several of us this week. She found all sorts of excuses but Cassius Warrington stood up for us. I still can’t believe it. _

 

_ There are many things I can’t understand lately. _

 

_ Warrington threatened to reveal that she used a blood quill on Evander Vaisey. I don’t know if you even remember him - he’s in the Slytherin Quidditch Team but only joined this year. Anyway, Vaisey is the godson of a Lord of the Wizengamot, Corban Yaxley (he is a Death Eater who claimed Imperius). Warrington told us it’s a little known fact and it turns out Umbridge thought she was safe because Vaisey is from a minor Pureblood family. His parents own a magical restaurant in Ottery St.Catchpole.  _

 

_ We are still trying to find a way to continue the Defence Club. Nobody trusts Ron anymore and until he apologizes and thinks about the consequences of his actions, I do not want him in the group either. Neville is surprising me more every day. You would barely recognize him. He grew up like a weed and gained a lot of confidence when he produced his first Patronus. He’s socializing and opening up. I think he would be a good leader for the Club if we ever manage to find a room to hide.  _

 

_ I have to go to Hogsmeade now, I need some time away from the castle; I’m scared and I hate feeling like this. _

 

_ I wish I could see you. I miss you more every day. _

 

_ Love, _

 

_ Hermione _

 

 

***

 

 

In the timeless streets of Hogsmeade, students of all Houses mingled, carrying shopping bags, attempting to enter the overcrowded premises of Honeydukes, laughing together or discussing the latest _ Prophet _ article about the Holyhead Harpies. Hermione fidgeted and tried to put an annoying lock of hair behind her ear. The strand didn’t cooperate and bounced in front of her eyes with each step she took. She pursed her lips, exhaled loudly and eventually left Neville with Lavender, Goyle, the Patil twins and Luna. She had somewhere else to be.

 

It could be a trap. She could be walking towards a burning humiliation and the only reason she had accepted Pansy’s invitation, aside from curiosity, had been because she had used the word “swot” and not “Mudblood” against her while she was obviously distressed: despite her emotional state, she had been able to change her habits. Hermione had decided she would give her a chance.

 

She was no longer dating Viktor Krum, though they had parted on good terms. Hermione had known from an early age that girls held the same interest as boys in her eyes, though it did take time before she understood exactly what it meant and even longer to realise that the Wizarding World as a whole didn’t care much. A few Pureblood families did, but most homophobic comments came from idiots of Umbridge’s calibre.

 

Hermione’d had several crushes for the past few years. Harry, Ron, Daphne Greengrass, to name a few, and she had often thought Pansy had become quite pretty. She was rather smart, but her attitude was too haughty.

 

Then again, she now knew that many Slytherins wore a mask. It had become quite evident during the Defence Club meetings.

 

She walked in front of Gladrags and spotted the dark-haired Slytherin a few feet away from her, alone, though Warrington and Pucey were just on the other side of the road. Slytherins never went anywhere completely by themselves, unless they didn’t want to be followed.

 

Pansy was wearing her school robes, so the Muggleborn felt slightly better about her own getup (a pair of jeans and a light blue hoodie). The Pureblood witch wore make-up however and her gaze was smouldering, her lips dark red. Hermione thought she looked older, more sophisticated, and she could easily imagine her in a designer blazer dress.

 

“Granger.”

 

“Hello, Parkinson.” The Gryffindor smiled when no insult on her Muggle clothes came. 

 

“So, I was going to drag you to the Three Broomsticks and snog you, but something came up and your renowned intelligence will come in handy.”

 

Hermione blushed furiously and glanced at the very Muggle envelope in the other girl’s hand. 

 

“What can you tell me about the rumours that you, Potter and the Weasel know Sirius Black personally?”

 

“Shh! Anyone could listen!”

 

The Slytherin rolled her eyes and waved her wand. “ _ Muffliato _ .”

 

“What’s that spell?”

 

“ _Silencio_ in reverse. Snape taught us. No one can hear anything we say.”

 

Torn between admiration and doubt, Hermione yelled “Quidditch sucks!” at the top of her lungs. Pansy snorted inelegantly and neither Warrington nor Pucey seemed to hear her.

 

“Okay, that’s good. Useful. Why do you want to know?”

 

“Heard from someone who heard from someone who works at the Ministry that in Third Year, Fudge dismissed testimonies in Black’s favour. Truth?”

 

Hermione squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, while the annoying strand of hair brushed against her cheek. “Innocent and framed by Peter Pettigrew, who is still alive and resurrected You-Know-Who. He’s also Harry’s godfather.”

 

“Pettigrew?!”

 

“NO, gosh, that would be awful!”

 

They started laughing until Hermione got the hiccups. Pansy wrapped an arm around her waist. “My dear Hermione Granger, I believe we’ll make a great team. What do you make of this?” She gave him the envelope.

 

The Muggleborn turned it over and opened it, finding only a blank piece of paper, but… she knew those silver leaves in the margins. She sucked in a breath. “Harry uses the same stationery for his letters! Who sent you this?”

 

“I can’t tell you, the letter is protected. Let’s see the loopholes… Did you know that in some families, being disowned makes you disappear entirely from the records? Old Pureblood families use this to pretend they don't have Squib relatives.”

 

Hermione remembered the Black Family tapestry and its burn marks, and barely thirty seconds later, she knew exactly why Pansy looked so much more relaxed. “Malfoy?” she whispered.

 

“Let’s write to Potter together, shall we?”

  
  


 

***

 

 

_ Hi Mione, _

 

_ I miss you too. Thank you for telling me about Neville - it’s good to hear, I’ll write him a letter. And Warrington is not someone I thought would defend Muggleborns but I learned from my mistakes. I won’t misjudge someone anymore. _

 

_ What about the Chamber of Secrets for your Club? I can find a way to send you a recording of me saying “open”. I would suggest getting Snape down there first to get the Basilisk out of the way - no idea if it’s still usable in any way but the venom should still be there.  _

 

_ I know what you’re going to say but I have a reason to trust him. I’ll tell you everything when we see each other again. _

 

_ I hope you enjoyed Hogsmeade! _

 

_ Be careful. _

 

_ Pronglet _

 

 

_ *** _

 

 

_ To our fellow, mighty and heroic partner-in-crime, _

 

_ The Toad has launched Operation Destroy Hogwarts. Educational Decree Number  _

_ we-don’t-know-there-are-too-many-of-them prohibits the use of magic at any time for students, including during class. The penalty is immediate expulsion or termination of employment for the teacher who dares challenge it. _

 

_ Tis with a jolly heart that we report the success of our own venture: Operation Fuck It.  _

 

_ The Toad does not appreciate our handiwork. How odd. Our Portable Swamp is a thing of beauty, and she will never find out how to remove it. _

 

_ We have left Hogwarts and will be opening Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes in Diagon Alley. _

 

_ Gred and Forge _

 

 

***

 

 

_ DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY! No, I will NOT use your new name! If it pisses you off, it’s even better. _

 

_ How could you do this to me! Do you have any idea how it feels to lose your best friend? It took me two weeks to reply and I don’t know if I’ll forgive you. _

 

_ Also, Granger is a fantastic kisser. _

 

_ Don’t reply. I’ll write again when I decide if I need to actually kill you or if you are still interesting enough to keep around. _

 

_ Pansy _

 

 

_ *** _

 

 

_ Pansy! Why are you doing this to me! I need to know! I’m so sorry! _

 

_ Draco SIRIUS BLACK _

 

 

_ *** _

 

 

_ Mione, _

 

_ A little bird told me something rather interesting today, so I’m sending you many hugs from afar and I wish you both the very best! _

 

_ Love, _

 

_ Pronglet _


	22. Oslo

The snow was melting slowly under the returning sun and the silence of winter relented in the face of the numerous species of birds coming back to build their nest. The Wizarding area of Oslo was a busy, colourful mess much like Diagon Alley. They had an open-air market in front of the Ministry, where witches, wizards and creatures alike wandered in search of the best fish, the best bread, or a simple snack. A stall sold merchandise of a Wizarding rock band, young children played on safe brooms that didn’t go higher than forty inches and House Elves bought groceries for their masters.

 

Too many different smells were mixed together, and it was loud, but Harry and Draco enjoyed it. They were here with Sirius and Andromeda for their Charms and Creatures Studies NEWTs - though Draco would only pass his OWL in the latter. Thanks to Apparition, they didn’t need to stay in the city overnight, a blessing since Harry was passing too many exams and would have needed to rent a room otherwise.

 

The previous day, every teenager had passed their Defence NEWT. Terence wished to wait until the end of the year to attempt the others. Susan and the younger Slytherins would pass their OWL in June, refusing to study as hard as Draco just to get them out of the way faster.

 

So far, Harry had passed his theory and practical exams (where applicable) in fifteen subjects, plus Potions, which he had a bad feeling about. Draco had accompanied him for it and said he believed he aced it, but he had otherwise passed his OWLs. He was ambitious, not insane.

 

Harry still had a few more exams to go through, some of which were forbidden in Norway, some others he would pass at some point in the future. At a rate of two, sometimes three exams a day, he knew he worried his friends and teachers, but it felt like something he just needed to do. With Voldemort’s memories of the subjects, he wasn’t revising much, and treated each exam like a self-study period. He also had to forget about getting his NEWT in Animagus Studies or Wandless Magic; the first, because he still hadn’t managed his transformation and the other, because apart from very specific spells that he could do in his sleep, it remained too difficult for now.

 

When they passed by a stall selling magically weaved clothing, Harry made a note to himself to come back without Draco for his birthday gift, even if it was still a few months away. He liked what was on display; perhaps the weaver would accept a personal commission.

 

Draco was buying his weight in candy when Andromeda put her hand on his shoulder. “It’s time, boys.”

 

Harry got a slap on the back on his hand when he tried to grab a Sugar Quill from his boyfriend’s bag and he protested weakly, before trying again, just to see the fake exasperation on his face. He loved the way the sunlight made his hair shine, even if he was wearing a Glamour that turned his blond locks brown. He stole a quick kiss from him to soothe an urge to cuddle. Draco was in a wonderful mood since Harry had created his new wand. Twelve inches, Cherry for rebirth and romance, with a core made of a drop of Ashwinder venom and a moulted fairy wing. Perfect for Charms.

 

They entered the Ministry by the front door and Harry thought this was much more dignified than the numerous ways to access the dark and busy building Fudge dwelt in. Once inside though, the chaos was quite similar, from the flying memos to the Floo spitting out workers and visitors. The security clearance was handled by men and women covered in scars, with gold flecks flickering in their eyes. Werewolves. When Harry had first seen them, Sirius had cleared up any confusion by revealing that Lycanthropy was considered a chronic illness and that none of the ridiculous laws preventing Remus from living a normal life in Britain applied here. The Scandinavian Ministry and its branches had much to teach their counterparts.

 

Werewolves often found jobs as Aurors or security personnel due to their heightened senses and physical strength. They were required to take Wolfsbane (supplied for free), to spend the full moon in a warded reserve and to submit themselves to medical exams after every transformation. Northern Europe still had a few rogues who agreed with the infamous Greyback but getting bitten was not equivalent to a death sentence.

 

Harry handed his Birch wand to a middle-aged witch whose face had been lacerated not so long ago; the scars were still pink.

 

“I don’t recognise the brand,” she mused in English. “I meant to ask about it last week.”

 

Harry tried to keep his pride in check. “I made it.”

 

The wizard who was examining Draco and Sirius’ wands perked up. “Did you make these, too?”

 

“Err, yeah.”

 

“Amazing. If I pay you, could you make one for me? Mine has never been quite right since I was turned.”

 

He felt the corners of his lips twitch and couldn’t help but smile. “Sure. What’s your current wand made of?”

 

“Ash and Norwegian Ridgeback Heartstring.”

 

Harry quickly analysed the man’s magical signature which emitted an otherworldly glow and reminded him of mist, frost and dark nights. It had the same animalistic quality as Remus’. “Definitely not compatible anymore.”

 

“Yeah, it rebels a lot.”

 

He felt a push against his back. “Err, we need to go, but I’ll talk to you next time!”

 

“That’s fine. Good luck!”

 

Led by Sirius, with Andromeda beside them, the teenagers exchanged a look. Harry was almost giddy. Creating wands for strangers would open the door to his future, one that could be bright and happy. He was glad to be out of the mindset that forced him to live in the moment because he always felt trapped by Voldemort, and by the responsibility the Wizarding World had so often put on his shoulders.

 

“You need a name. Potter Wands sounds stupid,” Draco announced as they neared the examination room after exiting the elevator.

 

“I guess. Help!”

 

Sirius snickered and ruffled the boys’ hair. “Nope, no brainstorming, NEWT time!”  

 

For the umpteenth time since February, Harry pushed the simple wooden door to one of the numerous examination rooms available on the third floor of the Ministry.

 

 

***

 

 

After a nice lunch in a Chinese restaurant in the Muggle part of Oslo, Sirius succumbed to his urge to go back to the market and left Andromeda in charge of the teens, who still had an hour before their next exam. His hands in the pockets of his dragonhide jacket, he strolled among the stalls, the cold air biting his skin.

 

Curious about local music, he found the person who sold merchandise to fans and listened to a sample. It sounded interesting enough but couldn’t hold a candle to Muggle rock. Thanking the vendor, he turned around and hit his face against someone’s head.

 

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” He pressed a hand on the painful spot, blinked and focused on the other magician. The man was slightly shorter than him, tanned, with messy red hair pulled into a bun and a nasty scar that went down from his jaw and hid under his collar. He apologised, his voice rough. Sirius barely heard him. He had met him once, at Grimmauld Place, before leaving Wizarding Britain.

 

“Charlie?”

 

Wide, dark blue eyes met his. “Err, I’m sorry, who are you?”

 

Sirius remembered that at the moment, his hair was dark blond, his irises brown and his nose upturned. “One of Fred and George greatest idols, Padfoot, maker of the Marauder’s Map and dog Animagus?”

 

Charlie lit up. “Oh Merlin, what? What are you doing here?”

 

“Accompanying someone for his NEWTs,” he replied, nodding in the direction of the Ministry.

 

“Really? I’ve been called as an expert for a Magical Creatures exam. I imagine I’ll be dealing with a certain godson of yours then. What were you doing?”

 

“Listening to these guys. Not too bad but I’ve heard much better. So, how come you were called in? I thought you were in Romania.” _And supposed to stay there and spread the word about Voldemort._

 

They walked together to leave the crowded stall. “Got into a right mess at the reserve with a Norwegian Ridgeback we just transferred in.” He touched the scar on his face, which had been absent in the summer. “She was one angry lady. We realised she had been separated from her eggs, so I was sent to the Arctic Reserve to check up on them and see what we could do. I’ve sent them to Romania last week. I was about to go back when someone from the Scandinavian Ministry requested an expert who was fluent in English and here I am.” He swerved to avoid a group of running children. “How come he’s already passing his NEWTs, did you tie him up and feed him books?”

 

Sirius chuckled and inhaled the scent of pastries and cookies when they reached the food stalls. “I wasn’t involved in the slightest! Something to do with You-Know-Who.”

 

“Does Dumbledore know?”

 

“Not exactly and it’ll stay that way.”

 

The redhead hummed. “I won’t tell him. _Tempus_.” The time appeared in the air. “Well, I’m off, I guess I’ll see you around.”

 

They shook hands and the second eldest Weasley son jogged in the opposite direction while Sirius hoped this wouldn’t be the start of an invasion into their quiet life. He wouldn’t be able to stand being in Molly’s presence for long.

 

 

***

 

 

Harry caught Draco’s furry body between his hands and dragged him away from the letter he was trying to reduce to shreds with all the mighty anger of a wronged weasel. The animal tensed up, attempted to get away, and went limp as soon as the Boy-Who-Lived kissed the back of his head.

 

“Still can’t get over how cute he is,” Millicent cooed with a bright smile.

 

“Astoria’s cuter,” Daphne pointed out, her sister napping in her lap as a chinchilla, Perseus relaxing beside her.

 

The Gryffindor smirked. With only him and Draco taking exams, the others weren’t stressed out and continued to enjoy their extra lessons. Terence kept telling them that they should probably study for their OWLs already, but they all thought they did enough - perhaps being left on their own gave them bad habits.

 

Theo bit the end of his quill and stretched his arms. “What happened?” The parchment in front of him was covered in ink but he wasn’t done yet, none of them were. Except Harry, who was no longer attending lessons with his peers and thus didn’t need to write a long essay for History of Magic.

 

Harry stroked the weasel’s back with a huge grin, holding him close to his face and feeling the heat of his body and the rapid beat of his heart. “New letter from Parkinson.”

 

“Can’t be as good as mine,” Blaise said, sprawled on the floor. After their trip to the Owl Post Office, he had shared interesting news from his mother, who had “taken care” of the problematic family member who wanted to bring Blaise to Voldemort. This meant that the boy could go home for the holidays, or even go back to Hogwarts, not that he had any wish to do that with the Toad roaming the castle.

 

Harry kissed Draco’s tiny head. “You’re just annoyed that Pansy teamed up with Hermione and figured things out a bit too quickly, aren’t you?”

 

Millicent, Daphne and Susan exchanged glanced, an excited smirk on their faces. Harry could almost feel their glee at the thought of so much gossip material. Terence stopped practising suturing spells on a banana peel just long enough to speak his mind about Draco pretending to be dead. The weasel bared his teeth.

 

“It’s not like he wrote to the _Prophet_ and asked them to do it,” Millicent said with a shrug.

 

“He didn’t deny it either. All I’m saying is, we’re under a _Fidelius_ , does it matter if people know you’re alive? They had a freaking vigil for you. Don’t forget your friends, alright?”

 

The Animagus’ body sagged before he escaped Harry’s grasp, ran towards the floor and turned back into his human self. The old Draco would have snapped at Terence. The soft, loving boy Harry cherished so deeply was better than that, even if he could still be prickly when he wanted to. The Gryffindor didn’t care, he loved him, flaws and all.

 

With one elegant eyebrow arched, the blonde crossed his arms and sat primly on the nearest couch, next to a small table covered in electronic gadgets that Harry had been trying to modify so they would work in a magical setting. “Should I make a statement?”

 

“Not to the press,” the oldest student replied. “For Slytherin.”

 

“That’ll go back to Lucius and he’ll send people after me again - he won’t like being contradicted.”

 

“And as I said, _Fidelius_. People think we’re still in England.”

 

Harry sighed and rubbed his boyfriend’s upper arm. “They’re looking for me anyway. If they find me, they find you, so in a way you’re still a target. Don’t worry about security, tell them you’re alive.”

 

“Okay, but this,” he shook the shredded letter, “needs to be dealt with. Pans knows too much and doesn’t understand why I’m in hiding. If they figured out that we were both at the same place, they’ll know about everyone else”

 

Daphne giggled. “You think Granger hasn’t told her? I know she’s annoying but give her some credit.”

 

“She’s not annoying,” Harry replied with a glare, feeling his insides melt at the kiss he received when Draco twisted around in his arms.

 

He was distracted when Astoria turned back into a human, her head kicking Daphne’s chin in the process.

 

“Merlin, Tori, that hurts!”

 

Harry frowned as she stood up. She didn’t look right. “You okay?”

 

Her sister waved a hand in front of her eyes. She didn’t react. The teens looked at her warily and Harry noticed the way their shoulders were straightening and their bright smile dimming. Draco’s hand grasped his.

 

Astoria’s staff flew into her outstretched palm and before anyone could react, she brought it down on the floor. A glowing maze of runes lit up under their feet. Harry and Draco threw a Shield Charm and the door flew open as Gnedykh, Remus and Andromeda ran into the room. By the time they realised who was causing the disturbance, the maze was gone, and Astoria was blinking in confusion.

 

“Tori?”

 

Harry kept his shield up while Draco slowly lowered his wand. Daphne was staring at her sister, wide-eyed and pale, Perseus still asleep on her thigh, and Theo was hiding behind a giant cushion with his parchment crumpled between his fingers. Terence stood in front of his girlfriend, wand ready. Blaise and Millicent clutched each other’s arms.

 

“Miss Greengrass,” Gnedykh’s voice boomed, startling everyone. “Don’t move.”

 

He swooped in, casting a series of Charms around her with a frown, and Harry still didn’t let go of his wand. He still remembered bits and pieces of his time out of his body and this magic felt like the air in the world between the living and the dead. Only when the empty frame hanging on the wall facing him welcomed a grinning Ignotus Peverell, did he feel confident enough to break the spell.

 

“You have nothing to worry about.”

 

Gnedykh rolled his eyes. “Not to undermine your enthusiasm, Lord Peverell, but this was a very strong bout of Death Magic.”

 

“Yes, and the previous explosion changed your living conditions, didn’t it? Though I am still quite confused about some of the objects I see around here, I trust it didn’t damage anything else. Miss Greengrass is feeling fine, am I wrong?”

 

Harry saw her smile sweetly and nod at the frame. Without the need to prevent portraits from harming electronics, Sirius had gone crazy and bought even more paintings to place everywhere in the hotel. The Potters and Ignotus wandered at all time of the day.

 

Remus asked what happened and the portrait clapped, briefly losing his dignified stance. “We’ve been working on her ties to the in-between through meditation.”

 

“It worked,” the girl said, eyes shining and cheeks pink. “I can see threads going from our bodies to the earth for all of us.”

 

“Which means?” Gnedykh queried. He looked tense and Harry could imagine he disliked being outsmarted by a portrait and kept out of the loop when dark magic was concerned.

 

Ignotus seemed proud of his student’s accomplishment. “She can trace her friends’ magic, find them if they are taken away, recognise if they are in danger or hurt, and she can lead someone to them. Anyone who was in this room when it happens has a new layer of protection. This will evolve quickly: soon, she will be able to extend this to direct blood relatives. Additionally, she will soon be able to speak the language of the dead.”

 

Draco perked up. “So, she could check up on my mother?”

 

Harry knew he worried about her sometimes. Without any contact from her, there was no telling what could happen, though the blonde wasn't losing sleep over it yet. 

 

“She could tell if she's healthy, at first. Finding a lost family member would take longer. I trust this will be useful in the future.” 

 

“Did it need to be so sudden?” Daphne rubbed her chin.

 

Blaise grimaced. “Almost had a heart attack there.”

 

Harry and Draco determined there was indeed no danger, pocketed their wand and sat back down, this time with Remus beside them. The black-haired teen listened to Astoria describing her experience and Ignotus explaining that it would happen again as she was granted access to more abilities. He liked the idea that she could find any of them no matter where they were, but he hoped Voldemort never discovered it. Somehow, he doubted that he could keep Astoria prisoner, not when she could exit her own body and save herself, but Voldemort would do everything in his power to get his hands on another Death Magic practitioner. If he found another Priestess, especially one who had already mastered her craft, he would be able to make her open portals to a different world none of them were ready for. He would unleash unspeakable horrors upon them all.

 

He was very much aware that Voldemort had no idea this branch of magic existed when he made Harry his Horcrux, thank Merlin. He knew spells and practices that were Death Magic, he just never discovered there was so much more to it.

 

Harry decided right there and then to focus more on Ley Lines study: what Astoria was currently doing was touching their essence and analysing it; perhaps he could help her reach her full potential and develop a new side of himself to get an advantage over his enemy.

 

The Russian teacher’s mouth was stretched in a thin line, but he grudgingly declared the room safe before muttering about scheming portraits and leaving in a huff.

 

Remus called Toppy, and Andromeda took Perseus in her arms. The tension vanished until Blaise was complaining about the rain, Astoria turned back into a chinchilla and Draco talked about Pansy and Hermione once more.

 

“I think this calls for tea,” the Werewolf decided, and Toppy agreed, eager to help as always.

 

Harry listened to his boyfriend’s rant, his fingers sweeping over his knuckles, but his mind was already far away, thinking about the magic that dwelt beneath the ground.


	23. Chamber of Secrets

 

_ Pansy, Mione, _

 

_ We can’t tell you much, but you’re right. _

 

_ Please don’t try to find us and don’t tell anyone else.  _

 

_ We would like it if you could tell the Professors (Toad not included), Goyle and the Slytherin Quidditch Team that Draco is alive and well. _

 

_ If it’s alright with you both, we should meet up during the summer. _

 

_ Love and kisses, _

 

_ Pronglet&Draco _

 

_ P.S: the second parchment will speak Parseltongue if you are up to no good. _

 

 

***

 

 

“So, what’s this Pronglet thing about?”

 

“Shh! Not so loud!”

 

“What kind of name is that?”

 

“Family thing. Anything to protect himself, right?”

 

Pansy eyed their surroundings to make sure Umbridge wasn’t lurking in the area and the content of the letter disappeared at her “Mischief Managed”. She was walking up the stairs behind Professor Snape, her hand brushing against Hermione’s, Longbottom following close behind, struggling to keep his nerves under control.

 

“Why are we doing this? You sure it’s safe?” he asked.

 

“He’s Draco’s godfather. Do you really believe he would tell the Toad?”

 

Hermione laughed quietly. “He looks at her like she’s a particularly slimy Flobberworm, I think we’re quite safe there.”

 

“You mean like he looked at Harry?”

 

With a smirk and an eye roll, the dark-haired Slytherin shook her head and thought they would be lucky if Snape didn’t dock a hundred points from Gryffindor for existing right this minute. In a way, she thought being in Potter’s presence might have turned Draco slightly insane. Suggesting the Chamber of Secrets for reviving the Defence Club (which would probably be about all practical magic, really) was one thing. Telling them to ask Snape to help them ensure the place was ready for its new purpose, bribing him with the Basilisk? Mad, but smart. There must be some darkness lingering; he was their best choice to fight it.

 

Despite knowing that the man bore the Dark Mark, Pansy trusted him, and she didn’t trust easily. With her parents and their acquaintances supporting the Dark Lord, she had learned from an early age how to observe and analyse a situation to avoid attracting attention. Unlike many of her peers, she never had any desire to bow down to anyone, no matter how powerful they were. She disliked weakness and the Dark Lord’s followers weren’t strong enough to achieve their goals without a leader. When she was little, she kept her head down. That was before she left home to live with her paternal aunt.

 

While her parents were not Marked and wouldn’t expect her to be, they were still too bigoted to let her get away with her attraction to women and her ideas on gender equality. They certainly didn’t expect her to turn her back on them and flourish without their presence in her life.

 

The Wizarding World was very strange. It had no issue with women in position of power, no difference in salaries, but on the flip side, old families could legally draft betrothal contracts, trapping both sons and daughters in an arrangement they didn’t ask for. They could decide on ridiculous clauses and few lawyers in Britain would manage to fight them and they could beat their children to death if they so wished… because witches and wizards considered that no one had the right to interfere in family matters.

 

This resulted in so many people in horrible situations, yet very few of them were aware of how wrong it all was and only perpetuated the cycle with their own children. Some stood out:

 

Nathan Greengrass, wed to a harpy when he was barely seventeen and forbidden from divorcing her. 

 

Narcissa Malfoy, so in love with Lucius at the time that she hadn’t minded having her rights stripped away, because she just couldn’t imagine why she would ever need them.

 

Azalea Parkinson-Rowle, who killed her husband in self-defense at twenty-one and was spared an Azkaban sentence because her solicitor had fought tooth and nail for her when her family decided they didn’t care. She was Pansy’s aunt, and she worked tirelessly for the rights of young witches and wizards bearing an Ancient and Noble name. 

 

With her influence, the teenager was more confident. She walked with her head held high, knowing her worth and proud of herself. She was smart, powerful and pretty, and she was now dating someone her parents would despise. It felt great. And Wizarding traditions wouldn’t touch her.

 

She didn’t shiver when the parchment hissed at the sink in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom (alright, she did, but Longbottom  _ whimpered _ ). She stared at the dark tunnel and sneered. “Tell me we’re not sliding down there.”

 

“Harry never mentioned stairs.”

 

Snape’s upper lip curled and he cast a Lumos. “If you are quite finished, I shall go ahead.”

 

They watched as the dour man disappeared down the tunnel. Once they heard the echo of his voice giving them the all-clear, Longbottom removed his outer robe and went in first, to Pansy’s surprise, though when she followed him and landed in a pile of rubble and bones, she found him much paler than usual under the light of Snape’s wand. She cast a Scourgify on her robes with a shudder of disgust.

 

Hermione shook her left foot to dislodge a small ribcage while Pansy looked around. She had been told of Lockhart’s unfortunate incident and almost wanted to go to St.Mungo’s to bask in her feeling of vindication at his mental state. She thought Obliviation should be part of the Unforgivable curses and couldn’t understand how a man would wish to perform it on children. Then again, her family didn’t mind financing a murdering lunatic so, really, Lockhart wasn’t the worst example of humanity she had ever met. 

 

Also, that was a GIANT FUCKING PIECE OF SKIN RIGHT THERE.

 

Snape examined it, extricated it from the rubble and levitated it. She could swear he was impressed, though he barely showed it. 

 

Carefully, he folded it and placed it in his leather satchel after casting an Extension Charm on it. He then eyed the teenagers and pointed his wand at them. Longbottom squeaked.

 

“If I wanted to hurt you, Longbottom, I would have forced your own potions down your throat a long time ago.” He cocked his head towards the round door covered in metallic snakes. “Behind this wall is, I assume, the rotting carcass of a sixty foot Basilisk. Do you want to breathe it in?” 

 

“N-no, Sir.”

 

With a curt nod, Snape cast the Bubble-head Charm on them and himself. They then cast a Protego Maxima together and Hermione made the parchment speak once more.

 

The professor asked them to stay behind and maintain the shield. From where she stood, Pansy saw wet, dark tiles and a greenish light, one that made Hermione look sick and Longbottom on the verge of fainting. They stayed still, waiting for Snape to come back. He was probably busy casting any and all detection spells he could think of, wordlessly, because he was one of the most powerful and talented wizards they knew. 

 

Pansy’s hand was getting tired around her wand by the time they were granted access and their breath caught in their throat as they discovered the truth of Slytherin’s monster.

 

Basilisk skin was too resistant to decompose, so they were faced with the actual beast, not a skeleton with bits of flesh still attached. The corpse was deflated because its internal organs had been exposed to the air through its mouth; Pansy was suddenly delighted about the bubble around her head.

 

She also noticed Hermione losing her composure - one lone tear running down her cheek. She wrapped an arm around her waist and the Gryffindor shook her head, unable, it seemed, to stop looking at the snake. “He was  _ twelve _ . He was a little boy and we were all celebrating and calling him a hero but-”

 

“But nobody cared about the trauma,” Pansy finished.

 

“He has nightmares almost every night.” Both girls looked at Longbottom, whose face was grim and resolute, no longer scared, but almost... furious. He shrugged. “He did, anyway. Sometimes, I stayed with him, just so he wouldn’t be alone. I don’t know if he noticed or realised why I was there. It’s Harry, you know? Since when does anybody cares about his mental health as long as he saves the day.”

 

Pansy could have sworn she saw Snape’s back stiffen while he was cutting up pieces of the Basilisk. The bitterness in Longbottom’s voice brought back memories that were now quite uncomfortable to contemplate.

 

The digs at his parents. The Heir of Slytherin.  _ Potter Stinks _ . The  _ Daily Prophet _ . Merlin, but even Pansy’d had a hand in this one, with her insults towards Hermione. She winced internally and decided she would apologize and hope the girl wouldn’t break up with her over it. Did she forget about it? Or was she just such a Gryffindor that she would forgive her so easily?

 

How did Draco even manage to become friends with Potter?

 

And why were adults in Hogwarts or the Wizarding World as a whole so useless? Weren’t they feeling the slightest bit of shame at praising a child for protecting everyone while they sat on their asses all day with their only worry being grading homework or finding something nice to cook that evening; who would lift a finger, they had their boy hero to keep them safe. Ah, but if he stepped out of line, did something they disapproved of, he was not better than the Dark Lord and humiliating him became a matter of national importance. Let’s not forget that bullying him didn’t matter, and that it was fine if he was just a little too thin and small at the end of every summer and sometimes flinched. The Slytherins noticed; they didn’t say anything, because it was Potter.

 

Useless. Teachers, parents and Ministry workers alike. A bunch of snivelling cowards-

 

“Miss Parkinson!”

 

Startled, she locked eyes with Snape. Hermione was holding her wrist so tightly it was painful and Longbottom was standing away from her. 

 

In her anger, she had accidentally melted the ugly statue of Salazar Slytherin and the floor beneath,  which looked like a smouldering pit of lava. It solidified when she regained control of herself.

 

She raised her chin. “Apologies, Professor.”

 

“Control yourself! And start cleaning this place up, I don’t have all day.”

 

Yes, she trusted Snape, but he was also part of the problem. This was another thing that was badly wrong with their world: children had no rights. 

 

On that day, in the dark, humid and smelly Chamber of Secrets, Pansy Parkinson found something new to fight for.

  
  


 

*** 

 

 

_ Pronglet, _

 

_ The Dungeon Bat turned the Chamber into the most fantastic duelling room we could have asked for. He enlisted the help of the House-Elves to bring furniture down the pipes. Did you know there was more than one room there? We have classrooms now!  _

 

_ Mione found Slytherin’s library. It was blocked because the tunnel collapsed but we fixed it together, and we’re sending you his journals. None of us can read them anyway and we figured they were written in Parseltongue. Don’t worry, the Bat examined them and they’re not cursed.  _

 

_ We’ve split the Club in different teams, each with one leader who managed to learn how to say “Open” in Parseltongue for the various classrooms and in case we get stuck somewhere. The Elves agreed to help us: when it’s time for a meeting, they’ll meet us in the four Houses and pop us all straight to the Chamber, and back out at the end. The Toad will have a harder time figuring out what’s going on if we don’t all enter through Myrtle’s bathroom. Mione didn’t like it, but I think her wish to keep the Club running won in the end. The buggers like helping anyway, they all think it’s a great prank. They can’t stand the Toad. _

 

_ Neville is leading us. He’s still skittish but he’s getting better and the Slytherins aren’t making fun of him anymore. He went a little crazy with a training dummy, zoned out for a bit and thought he was fighting Bellatrix Lestrange.  _

 

_ The dummy was obliterated. He impressed everyone. He could be amazing with a suitable wand. _

 

_ I make the whole thing sound almost amusing but we’re honestly considering dragging Umbitch down there with us and locking her inside the Basilisk’s nest permanently (that’s a very creepy room by the way). _

 

_ There’s a new contract, with a Babbling Hex that triggers if someone tries to speak about the Club within earshot of a non-member. I’m a bit angry that we never thought about that in the first place, it’s so simple. It makes us discuss the latest Quidditch game, the weather or even the giant squid instead. Can’t write it down either, it forces us to draw Nifflers. _

 

_ Mione and Pansy are together, but maybe you already knew. Ron still can’t believe it and we’ve known for two weeks (he’s not part of the Club for now)! Anyway, they’re always studying Wizarding Law. I have a feeling they found a common crusade and we should all be very, very afraid.  _

 

_ Gred and Forge are negotiating a price for a store on Diagon Alley so I hope you’ll visit when they open. Mum isn’t happy but she can’t do much, it’s not like they’d be allowed back to school. _

 

_ There’s no news from Snake-Face. Still. It’s freaking me out. I’m sure the Dementors are allied with him since the breakout; Merlin knows what he’s planning. Without Dumbledore here, I’m afraid he could actually access Hogwarts. Bill says the news about Flitwick has unsettled the Goblins and he recommended we get our money out of Gringotts, not that we have much of it anyway, and Mum didn’t want to. Dad did it under her nose. Ted (Tonks) helped him set up a Muggle account. _

 

_ Percy should also be walled in somewhere so I won’t bore you with Sir Stick-Up-The-Ass. _

 

_ Do you think I should ask Pucey on a date? He’s fit. He’s also funny. Bonus, Ron would have an aneurysm.  _

 

_ See you soon, I hope! _

 

_ Gin _

  
  


 

***

 

 

“Lucius.”

 

“My Lord.”

 

“Do you bring good news? Do not forget: if you fail this task, you forfeit your pathetic life. Your pitiful excuses will not help you any longer.”

 

“Y-Yes, My Lord. I understand.”

“Aah, why do you keep on believing that making me wait will somehow be a rewarding experience?”

 

“They’re growing, my Lord. Healthy and strong.”

 

“What of your wife?”

 

“Still monitored, my Lord, twenty-four hours a day.”

 

“Very well, I shall keep you alive a while longer. Rookwood, what about the Prophecy?”

 

“The Order is still guarding it, my Lord, but entering the Department of Mysteries should no longer be an issue. If I may, how will we remove it from its shelf?”

 

“Alas, my plan to use young Harry is no longer applicable. Observe your colleagues, find one least likely to resist the Imperius. We’ll attempt a retrieval soon. Severus, anything to add?”

 

“My Lord. It is perhaps bold of me to suggest such an action, however, wouldn’t it be possible to tip the shelf, put a bag under the Prophecy and let it fall inside?”

 

 

***

 

 

When Severus Snape reached the Order’s Headquarters, shaking from the Cruciatus and worried for Narcissa's health, he was looking forward to his debriefing for the first time in months. Moody’s face would be a delight to witness.


	24. Beltane

When the time to light the bonfires of Beltane came, Draco received another letter from his godfather and, for the first time in months, he had to concentrate to breathe normally. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, angry at his mother, angry at _himself_ for feeling that way. Why couldn’t she leave with him? Run away when the Dark Lord wasn’t living at Malfoy Manor, before it was too late? She knew how unstable Lucius was, what was she hoping would happen if she stayed? Why didn’t Madam Bones insist?

 

Since when had he been here, having fun with his friends, relaxing, learning to live a humbler life, without snarling at everyone and sneering at those he considered below his notice? And all this time, his mother was… what? A prisoner? Tortured, perhaps? Maybe even dead.

 

_“...I will do my best to get her out, but I cannot compromise my position, surely you understand…”_

 

No, he didn’t. What he did understand was that his mother had not been seen since they stopped writing to each other and that no one thought it necessary to tell him. Nobody worried. _He_ didn’t worry. Was he such a bad son?

 

If he had stayed, if he had followed Lucius’ wishes and supported the Dark Lord, none of this would have happened. He crouched on the floor, at the foot of his bed in the room he didn’t use anymore and buried his face in his arms. The carpet felt rough under the fabric of his socks and the air smelled like dust. He heard his friends laughing outside. Everyone was celebrating, everyone but Harry, and guilt gnawed on Draco’s conscience for their dispute. He shouldn’t have yelled; Harry had only wanted to help.

 

Shuddering, he chose to escape reality and turned into his Animagus form, nicknamed Teeth since he kept chewing on everything (Theo had voted for Omnomnom but had been bitten on the nose and promptly decided it was a mistake). As an animal, “Teeth” didn’t feel human emotions as strongly as Draco and he was easily distracted by shiny or tasty-looking things. He flattened himself and hid under the bed, away from the world, curling up on himself in exhaustion.

 

If he had been a Gryffindor, Draco would already be on his way back to Wiltshire without any plan in mind, just his one goal to save his mother - but he was a Slytherin, and in this instance, he was quite certain his self-preservation instincts were doing their job and preventing him from losing his life in a ridiculous one-man raid upon a half-sentient manor.

 

 

***

 

 

Harry didn’t want to sing, dance or eat tonight. Sirius disagreed and placed a plate laden with roasted, spicy vegetables in front of him.

 

“Eat. He’s not going anywhere.”

 

The boy took his fork and poked an asparagus. “It’s his mum, Padfoot.”

 

“And if it was me instead, you would rush to my rescue, but you know Draco is smarter than that.”

 

“Are you calling me stupid?”

 

Sirius barked a laugh, sat beside him and ruffled his hair, a gesture Harry vainly tried to dodge. “While I’m aware that you don’t exactly have a good reason to trust adults in a situation like this, I hope you know that you’re not alone anymore, right? Neither is Draco. I’m here.”

 

“Well, yeah, you’re here, what good does it do?” He winced. “‘m sorry. It’s just- unfair.” He glanced at the group of Slytherins who were playing Exploding Snap on the other side of the fire, then at Remus, Gnedykh and Crowfeet who were arguing about something related to the effects of the full moon on magic, again. Andromeda was organizing the food with Toppy and a very reluctant Kreacher, and Flitwick created shapes with the flames to amuse the fairies buzzing around.

 

Harry was ashamed of his own behaviour towards Sirius; Draco was suffering, Harry had been insensitive and as a result, his boyfriend had almost punched him and reverted to the git he had been at Hogwarts before running off. The Gryffindor took his anger out on the undeserving. All he wanted to do now was find Draco, apologize and hold him - and Sirius asked him not to, so Draco could cool off.

 

His godfather tasted a potato and glanced at him from the side. “There’s an Order meeting happening later today, perhaps they’ll have an idea.”

 

Staring at him, his fork and food forgotten, the boy let out a nervous giggle. “There’s no way they’d attempt a rescue for _Narcissa Malfoy_!”

 

“Err, you’re probably right. Let me think.”

 

Think. That, Harry didn’t want to do. Voldemort was such a twisted individual, there was no telling what he had in store for her. Perhaps her being still alive wasn’t such good news after all. _No. Stop. Occlude_. He breathed deeply. _In. Out. In. And out._

 

The voices, music and laughter around him, the roar of the fire, everything had an echo and faded more and more as he focused on his mind. Soon, he couldn’t feel the bench under his buttocks or the cold air of a spring evening anymore; instead, he floated.

 

He had been busy lately and meditated more often. Between making wands for his friends, one extra for Remus, a commission for the Werewolf at the Ministry and passing his NEWTs, not to mention teaching Duelling and Defence when Sirius wasn’t available, he needed to take the time to rest his brain.

 

He pictured himself leaning against the banister, gazing at the fjord, the sky, the trees, breathing in the scents of flowers and salt. He focused on the sea, on the earth, on the clouds, on the Ley Lines shimmering beneath the ground.

 

Ley Lines.

 

He came back to himself so abruptly that his head felt like it was split in two. Sirius immediately pulled him closer. “Pronglet! What just happened?!”

 

“What… what good are Voldy’s memories if I only use them to pass more NEWTs than Hermione?” he hissed, gritting his teeth.

 

Sirius raised an eyebrow, tension visibly easing from his shoulders. Harry guessed his little meditation might have freaked him out slightly; while the man knew he was doing it quite often, he usually didn’t start in the middle of a meal where everyone could watch him.

 

Seeing that his godfather was still waiting, he pointed at Astoria with his chin. “She can at least find out if Narcissa is alright, right? If she uses Draco’s blood-”

 

“Blood!”

 

Startled, Harry glared at his godfather.

 

“What?” The man grinned, his grey eyes shining. “Blood! She’s my cousin! KREACHER!”

 

“Nasty blood-traitor Master who granted Kreacher’s biggest wish is bothering Kreacher when Kreacher is bringing more food, Kreacher will spit in nasty Master’s glass, yes he will.”

 

“And I won’t drink anything you bring me in the near future, but this is important.”

 

“Kreacher’s only Master is Master Draco, yes he is.”

 

Harry bit his lower lip to keep from laughing.

 

“This is about your Mistress Narcissa.”

 

Kreacher’s eyes widened and threatened to take over his entire face. “Kreacher is listening.”

 

Leaving his bench, Harry crouched in front of the Elf and took his hand. “Can you find her?”

 

The servant concentrated, shivered, and shook his head. “Mistress Cissa is being behind old wards, Kreacher can’t go, Kreacher is not sure where. Kreacher is thinking Malfoy Manor but the wards is not feeling like the Manor.”

 

“Grimmauld place has a basement with wards even stronger than the rest of the house,” Sirius mused, and Harry’s left eyelid twitched. He didn’t like the sound of that. Draco had told him about some kind of medieval dungeons that had never been repurposed nor renovated; when he was little, the blonde had apparently gotten lost in the dark maze beneath the basement floor of the West Wing for an entire day because the House Elves had trouble finding him; something about the ancient magic interfering with their powers.

 

“You is needing a Malfoy Elf.”

 

“They’ll be too loyal to Lucius,” Harry said with a sigh. He really needed to talk to Draco as soon as possible but didn’t let his impatience show. Then, he noticed Kreacher acting shifty, and poked his shoulder. His affronted expression was priceless. “Kreacher, would there be any Malfoy Elf who only obeys Narcissa?”

 

“There is being one-”

 

“Ha!” Sirius snapped his fingers. “I don’t remember her name but it’s the one who fought with Kreacher when Regulus broke a vase at Uncle Cygnus’ birthday dinner.”

 

“Mopsy should not have told poor Master Regulus that poor Master Regulus was being a bad little boy.”

 

Sirius seemed haunted for a moment. “Yes, him. Or her. Given to Narcissa when she got married. Technically a Malfoy Elf, but loyal only to the Black family.” He lowered himself to whisper in Harry’s ear: “That was a good fight though. Reg laughed so hard that he fell against _another_ vase and broke that one too. ‘T’was ugly anyway.”

 

“Who won?”

 

“Mopsy.”

 

Kreacher muttered about fights to the death and blood traitors and defending poor Master Regulus’ honour until he was dismissed, and Harry and Sirius agreed that Draco would be needed to talk to Narcissa’s Elf. Before he left, however, the dark-haired boy had to promise that no, he would not find a way back to England in his usual display of heroism, and if Draco wanted to act like a mindless Gryffindor, Harry needed to be the voice of reason.

 

 

***

 

 

The leopard gecko was small and fast, undetectable as he ran along the wall looking for the door to Draco’s room. He had planned on revealing his Animagus form to prank the blonde; now, he thought it might just distract him from his distress long enough to talk to him.

 

Speaking of distraction, the fly he had eaten had been tasty, he wondered if the spider on the window- no, not now. He had something more important to do.

 

His animal brain yelled that nothing was more essential than a tasty, crunchy little snack, but even though he had only been able to transform for twenty-four hours, he was able to fight against most instincts that could take over at any time. He imagined it was due to his Occlumency shields.

 

He found the door and squeezed himself under it, ignoring the spider. The darkness of the room wasn’t a problem for his nocturnal eyes. He darted his tongue out, scenting the air and scuttered towards the bed.

 

Teeth woke up but his head stayed rooted to the floor, so Harry (who hoped nobody would vote to call him Tongue or something equally ridiculous) stopped walking once he was close enough to feel his whiskers against his snout.

 

_Hi Teeth!_

 

_Not a snake, I see._

 

_This Animagus telepathy is weird. How are you?_

 

_How do you think, Scarhead._

 

He moved closer. _Hey. I’m sorry._

 

_Yes, well, being sorry won’t help Mother, will it. Your tail is fat._

 

_No, it won’t help, but can we turn back now? We need to talk and I’m very distracted by the food buzzing against the window. It’s about your Mum._

 

Teeth turned his head away.

 

_If you don’t come with me, I’ll drag you. With my tongue. It’s extra-sticky._

 

_You will not!_

 

 _I’m not very good at obeying._ He opened his mouth and flicked his tongue out of his mouth.

 

_Put it away, this is repulsive!_

 

The weasel ran away, and Harry waddled after him, proud when he saw him take on human form once more. Before Draco could snatch him up from the floor, his reptilian form vanished. Grey eyes avoided his gaze.

 

“Draco, come on. It’s dusty in here.” His hand closed around his wrist and he gently steered him away. Instead of allowing him to hide again, this time in their shared living space, he dragged him downstairs. Draco didn’t resist and Harry’s heart hurt each time he heard him sniffling.

 

He spared him the presence of the others by inviting him in the empty dining hall. Toppy brought them tea and mini-sandwiches then locked the door to make sure no one would bother them.

 

Draco looked drained and sickly, but as soon as Harry explained what he, Sirius and Kreacher had been discussing, he regained a semblance of energy and straightened his back. “Mopsy would obey me,” he whispered, fidgeting. “An order from Mother overrides Lucius’. An order from me, as a Malfoy, doesn’t, but as a Black?” He grabbed Harry’s hand and squeezed, to the other boy’s delight. “We can save her, Harry!”

 

“Alright.” He kissed the corner of his mouth. “We need someone other than an Elf to help.”

 

“Tonks. Snape would be best, but he would risk too much. Tonks is family.”

 

“Alright. Drink your tea, and we’ll ask Sirius. I’m glad you’re still speaking to me.”

 

“Mh. So, a gecko? Cute. I’ll call you Spots.”

 

Harry smirked. He could live with Spots. “I’ll go ask Astoria if she can feel your mother’s health.”

 

“Don’t.” The hand on his arm was warm. “I don’t want to know. I just want to bring her here. Can we?”

 

“Kreacher will die of glee.”

 

Draco leaned against him, his head resting on his shoulder. At some point, Harry found out he had fallen asleep, so he just held him and drank his tea before it got cold. He would still ask Astoria, just to make sure Tonks or whoever accompanied her would be ready. He pressed his lips to his boyfriend’s hair. He may have calmed down, but it was temporary, and Harry could only support him through these uncertain times.


	25. Narcissa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're reaching the end of part 1 very soon, so thank you to everyone who has been reading this story so far and everyone who is waiting for its completion!

_AZKABAN ESCAPEE ROOKWOOD FOUND DEAD_

_by Rita Skeeter_

 

_Late last night, a tragic accident involving ex-Unspeakable Augustus Rookwood resulted in his death. Rookwood, who escaped Azkaban earlier this year, was serving a life sentence for treason and Death Eater activities._

 

_He was found dead in front of the Ministry by a night guard who describes his body as “a mangled, bloody mess, showing obvious signs of torture before death.”_

 

_Did he displease Black, somehow, or was this a revenge killing from a Death Eater’s victim? Are we safe, knowing that unhinged children could be behind this gory murder? Thanks to Dolores Umbridge, there is hope. More on page 2!_

 

_It is still unclear how Rookwood got out of his cell but the Aurors are doing their very best to track down Sirius Black, You-Know-Who’s right hand man and kidnapper of the heirs of many upstanding families, who is said to be the one behind the break-out. To learn more about Black’s involvement in the murder of young Draco Malfoy, see page 64._

 

 

 

Tonks started tearing strips off her copy of the Daily Prophet, calm and composed, and watched them burn in the dusty fireplace.

 

Number 12, Grimmauld Place desperately needed a House Elf - one who was not Kreacher and who would thus clean the place up. Molly was doing her best but the house, which was partly sentient like any ancient dwelling belonging to an old Pureblood family, was fighting against her best efforts. It was its way to make its disdain for its occupants known; it seemed that any attempt at scouring the floor only resulted in more Doxies, Boggarts and still unidentified beings lurking in the shadows.

 

The Weasleys slept in one of the few rooms they had managed to fix before Sirius left; with Bill’s curse-breaking talents, it was safe enough to sleep soundly. The young man had added wards to several bedrooms, the kitchen and the attic (where Buckbeak was growing restless) but dust was persistent. In some other areas of the townhouse, unexpected dangers lay in wait. One of the shelves in the library had tried to eat Hermione during winter break and the toilet on the third floor had bitten Elphias Doge and followed him around like a mad ceramic creature.

 

The house was a death trap but there weren’t many places where one could be so safe from the outside world.

 

While Tonks was feeding the fire, Hestia Jones was trying to get as far away from Mundungus Fletcher as humanly possible.

 

When Snape and Dumbledore finally arrived, both running late and followed by Amelia Bones, Molly conjured more chairs and enlarged the table.

 

“Skeeter’s trying to blame Sirius and insane children again,” Tonks explained to Kingsley Shacklebot in response to his raised eyebrows.

 

She wiped her hands on her jeans and sat between him and Doge, nodding to Amelia and wondering why the woman hadn’t been offered a place in the Order during the first war. She was efficient and easily called Dumbledore out when he was being obtuse or vague - even Snape found her attitude tolerable, though she did eye him with barely concealed suspicion.

 

“Thank you all for coming,” Dumbledore said, accepting a cup of tea. “Once again, we must do without Sirius, Andromeda, Filius or Remus but I trust Ted to fill them in.” Tonks’ father nodded with a smile. “Good. You’ve heard about Rookwood - Severus, do you know what happened?”

 

“He brought the Prophecy to the Dark Lord but did not mention it was no longer active, thus unusable. The Dark Lord was quite displeased.”

 

Moody snorted and Tonks bit back her giggles. The thought of pranking Voldemort was much funnier now that Snape was safe from his wrath; he could have been blamed for it as well, after all. She might dislike the potions Master, but she trusted him as long as Dumbledore did.

 

“Unfortunately, without the distraction of the Prophecy, he will now direct his attention elsewhere,” the Headmaster continued. “Amelia and I are still working with Ministries over the world to convince them of his return. France, Scandinavia and Romania believe us but will not act unless they have to.”

 

Bill glared at his mother who was touching his hair and probably wishing she had a pair of scissors. “It’s still progress.”

 

“Indeed. Now, Alastor-”

 

A House Elf popped into existence and wailed loudly. Moody and Tonks were on their feet, their wands pointed at the creature who froze but continued to sob. Hestia blinked and shuffled nervously, a teacup broken at her feet. “Merlin’s balls, how did it get in?”

 

Kingsley stepped closer. “Who are you and who sends you?”

 

“Mopsy is Mopsy! Mopsy is needing help!”

 

A letter from Harry, received over three weeks earlier, flashed into Tonks’ mind. She lowered her wand and crouched in front of the distressed Elf. “I’m your Mistress’ niece. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

 

She ignored the whispers behind her. Mopsy’s eyes filled with tears once more. “Mistress Cissa is being hurt! There is being so much blood, Mopsy tried to help but Mopsy couldn’t! Mopsy doesn’t know what to do!”

 

“Cissa?” Dumbledore repeated, but Tonks didn’t look at him. “You’re a Malfoy Elf?”

 

Molly screeched about Death Eaters and compromised locations until Snape threatened to poison her if she didn’t shut up. Billowing robes entered Tonks’ vision and she raised her head, understanding that he would assist her. “Mopsy, I know you’re scared. Where is Narcissa?”

 

“The Manor. Is you helping Mopsy?”

 

“Yes. Can you get her out?”

 

The Elf bawled. “Mopsy can but Mopsy is not knowing where!”

 

Snape hissed. “I’ll distract Lucius, but I won’t have much time.”

 

“You can’t bring her here, the _Fidelius_ -”

 

“Trust me, Hestia, I had no intention of doing so. Mopsy, I’ll Apparate, can you bring her to my location?”

 

“M-Mopsy will!”

 

She vanished and Tonks had to grit her teeth to stop herself from screaming at the blatant disapproval on the Order members’ faces. She turned to her father just as Snape Disapparated. “Join me at my apartment. Amelia, I’ll let you explain, if you will?”

 

Her ex-boss crossed her arms and declared the meeting adjourned for now, to most members’ dismay, but Tonks didn’t stick around to hear their complaints. She Apparated home, her father behind her, and was startled when Bill followed suit. She didn’t ask why, simply focused on cleaning up her bed.

 

Bill started building wards. They would hold but not for long. Tonks hoped it would give them enough time.

 

When Mopsy appeared, she was covered in blood and Narcissa was unconscious, hitting the floor upon arrival.

 

“Merlin!” Ted exclaimed, and the Metamorphmagus couldn’t get her eyes away from her aunt’s mid-section. Narcissa was heavily pregnant, or in the process of losing a child.

 

Tonks kept a cool head and levitated her aunt to the bed, her father already casting diagnostic Charms while Bill continued working on their security. Mopsy was no longer crying. Instead, she was using her magic to keep Narcissa stable.

 

Tonks told Bill to go back to Dumbledore and ask him to borrow Fawkes, then her eyes met Mopsy’s. “Can you tell me what happened?”

 

“Master Lucius is keeping Mistress Cissa prisoner. Mistress Cissa is not being awake and Mopsy is being ordered to feed Mistress Cissa potions.”

 

“How far along is she?”

 

“Mistress Cissa is being twenty-three weeks.”

 

The diagnostic indicated that while she was not in labour, the children - _twins, Merlin’s left tit!_ \- were in distress and might not make it. One of them was shrouded in unknown magic, but perhaps it could happen, what did she know, she wasn’t a Mediwitch.

 

“Master Draco be calling Mopsy. He is telling Mopsy to take Mistress Cissa to Mistress Dora but Mopsy couldn’t, the Manor wouldn’t let her! But then Mopsy convinced the Manor, yes she did, because Master Lucius’ heir is being in danger of not being born if Master Lucius is not helping Mistress Cissa. Master Lucius’ brain is not being working, Mopsy thinks, so Mopsy talked to the Manor and the Manor let Mistress Cissa and Mopsy escape. Mopsy wanted to escape earlier, she did!”

 

Tonks gave her a gentle smile. Harry’s letter had warned her that the Elf was able to resist Lucius’ orders because her allegiance to the Black family had never been broken. It was risky if Bellatrix decided to use her, but for now it would do.

 

The blood was gone from Narcissa’s body by the time Dumbledore joined them. His eyes didn’t twinkle as he looked at the unconscious woman, but he cast a strong Stasis Charm to prevent the damage from getting worse.

 

Fawkes flew straight to the bed, observing Narcissa’s face, then with a trill, he cried on her lower abdomen. One tear fell and was absorbed through her skin. Speechless, Tonks looked up at the Headmaster.

 

“I would say we were just in time,” he murmured.

 

“I thought- I don’t want to drag her to several different countries or Apparate with her,” Tonks explained, getting rid of the blood on Mopsy’s hands and arms.

 

“I see. I’m sure Fawkes will be happy to bring you to Lilium. Travelling via Phoenix is quite safe. How did Mopsy know who to reach?”

 

“Draco told her, and Harry warned me.”

 

“I see. I wish they had trusted me.” He removed his glasses, cleaned them with a spell, and put them back on. “You should go. Ted, if you are staying, may I ask you for a moment of your time?”

 

The man nodded and ruffled his daughter’s pink hair, leaving her with the Elf, the Phoenix and her aunt. She wrapped her arms around the older woman. “Mopsy, go find my mother, we’ll figure out what to do with you.”

 

“Mopsy is going!” She disappeared.

 

Fawkes stared at her, tilting his head, and jumped on her shoulder. Tonks exhaled slowly. “I’m ready.”

 

The bird trilled and spirited her away.

 

When she landed on the grass in front of the Tranquil Spire Hotel, she hadn’t felt a thing. The Phoenix left in a ball of flames and she lowered Narcissa carefully. She might be in stasis, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t get hurt anymore, it merely kept her current status from deteriorating.

 

“ _Expecto Patronum_. Message for Crowfeet: urgent care needed immediately, front step.”

 

The silver animal vanished and the healer Apparated to her location. “What do you know?”

 

Thankful that he didn’t waste any time, she brought him up to speed.

 

“She needs a hospital, Tonks. I’ll Firecall them. Renew the stasis spell.” He Disapparated again and Andromeda rushed out of the school. She didn’t speak, only held her sister’s hand and waited for the medical team.

 

This would be hell to keep quiet.

 

 

***

 

 

Sirius was more than glad that Remus had taken the teenagers to Tromsø for an afternoon of lasertag. There was no telling how Draco would have acted. The past three weeks had been hard enough, with the boy’s anger spiking at odd moments, straining his relationship with Harry and his friends, and his erratic behaviour that Sirius struggled to handle. Draco - his son, Merlin, he still wasn’t used to it - was devoured by guilt. He took it out on everyone around him. Harry weathered it, supporting him through it all but Sirius had found him crying in his workshop and discussing his exhaustion with his family’s portrait.

 

Draco’s negative energy was at its lowest when he was active. Duelling and playing Quidditch helped, so did paintball, though he disliked the sharp pain of being hit. Remus looked up Muggle group activities for a week-end outing and found what he called “paintball that doesn’t hurt and has a lot of lights”. So, the teens ventured above the Arctic Circle earlier today and wouldn’t be back until after dinner. Remus had even ensured that there would be no green light that could trigger memories for Harry.

 

Upon arriving at the hospital after contacting the Scandinavian Ministry regarding the level of security they could expect within their health establishments, he found Aurors speaking quietly with Tonks and felt a ward shiver. He hadn’t forgotten to Glamour his face even if the Ministry had assured him that nothing that went on inside the hospital could ever get out without the consent of the patients, Chief Healer and visitors, except for the Auror force. Some sort of _Fidelius_ that worked similarly to the one in the Department of Mysteries, he guessed.

 

A witch welcomed him and directed him to the corridor where Andromeda was waiting, next to one of the operating rooms. He arrived just in time to meet a Healer with frizzy grey hair and bright blue eyes.

 

“Are you family?” she asked in heavily accented English.

 

“Andromeda is her sister, I’m her head of House.” Ah, the ward tingled. Was it verifying his words? It certainly seemed so, as the Healer nodded.

 

“She has been dosed with Draught of Living Death and kept in this state for months. She shows signs of torture. Waking her is not an issue but we are worried about the children she carries.”

 

Sirius choked on his own spit and coughed, helped by his cousin. “Children?” he croaked.

 

“Twin boys. We detected a magical anomaly around one of them and we do not yet know what it is. I have been told that Phoenix tears were used to stabilize them; it likely saved their lives, but I need your consent to deliver the twins now.”

 

Andromeda stood up and grabbed Sirius’ hand. “Are they… Will they be alright?”

 

“It is not without risk. They will be severely premature. The first few moments outside the womb will be crucial. Afterwards, we can bring them to a healthy state magically, but they need to survive until the first spells are effective.”

 

“What about my sister?”

 

“She needs special care that we cannot perform on pregnant women.”

 

Sirius felt like he had just swallowed sandpaper. His mind was reeling. Together with Andromeda, they signed the consent form and watched the Healer disappear inside the operating room. The implications of what he’d just heard crashed down on him. “Shit, two boys? Lucius is not going to let her go so easily!”

 

Andromeda looked grim. “We need a damn good lawyer.”

 

“I’ll get one right now. Will you be alright alone?”

 

“Nymphadora should be back soon. Go.”

 

He ran.

 

 

***

 

 

Five hours later, Sirius was sitting on a comfortable chair in the Head Auror’s office in Oslo, with a severe-looking witch in her thirties who was reviewing Mopsy’s statement. The nameplate on the desk indicated Head Auror Nezha Hajjar.

 

The Elf sat beside Sirius, wide-eyed, probably stunned to be considered worthy of being listened to. House Elf testimony was considered invalid in the United Kingdom, but just as valuable as a human’s for the Scandinavian Ministry. She had eagerly offered her memories.

 

An Auror who was infected with Lycanthropy entered the room, carrying a stack of parchments, and a woman who looked quite a lot like the Head Auror closed the door behind them. Sirius liked her. She was Tamara Hajjar, the same lawyer who managed to get the government to grant him asylum in just under an hour. If money wasn’t an issue, she was the very best in her field. The Egyptian Ministry was apparently still hoping she would feel homesick and decide to work for them. As she told Sirius when they first met, she liked the cold too much to ever go back.

 

The Werewolf handed her the parchments. “Marriage contract between Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and Narcissa Black Malfoy.”

 

Sirius couldn’t believe how efficient this had been. Shacklebot was risking his job for that and this would never have happened if he wasn’t on good terms with his Norwegian colleagues. Head Auror Hajjar had contacted him under the cover of a routine investigation. A few international Floocalls later and the British Auror was checking the civilian archives and finding exactly what they needed.

 

“That is not a smart contract to sign,” the lawyer mused, perusing the text. “Did she have any children before the twins?”

 

“A boy.” Sirius frowned. “Disowned. I adopted him recently.”

 

Tamara flicked her hand at the page she was reading. “Thank Merlin for that. While she had no rights on her firstborn son, her next children are entirely hers. I guess Lord Malfoy never thought it could come back to haunt him.” She looked at her sister. “He has no claim to the babies. The only way out for Narcissa Malfoy, however, is if her husband is accused of criminal activities with enough proof. Should this happen, Narcissa’s Head of House can reclaim her and, if Lucius is proven innocent, Lord Black can choose to draft a new contract. This is one of the most misogynistic pieces of shit I’ve ever seen.” Her lips curled in disgust.

 

Running a hand in his hair, now free of any Glamour, Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Accused or convicted?”

 

Tamara’s smirk made her look like a shark. “Accused, and no country is specified. I do so love loopholes.”

 

Sirius stared at the ring on his left index finger, one that had greatly hurt his pride but had been necessary to claim the Black Vaults, name Harry as his Heir, and adopt Draco. It wasn’t that big of a burden anymore and would be appreciated today.

 

Nezha tapped perfectly manicured nails against the wood of her desk. “After reviewing Mopsy’s memory, I formally accuse Lucius Abraxas Malfoy of severe domestic abuse, child endangerment, torture and sequestration. He will be arrested if he puts one toe in any Scandinavian country. His involvement within the Death Eaters will also be reviewed. Can the marriage be dissolved?”  

 

“The contract requires her to be handed back to her Head of House who will assume responsibility until she is wed again.”

 

A wave of nausea hit Sirius and he hid a flare of burning hatred for his uncle and for Dark-aligned British Purebloods in general. He swore to take up his seat in the Wizengamot after Voldemort was dealt with and crush these antiquated traditions. He also reminded himself to check up on Daphne’s contract with the Warrington heir, if Lord Greengrass let him.

 

The Self-Spelling Quill wrote up the warrant for Lucius’ arrest. Sirius declared the marriage null and void, signing it in blood and gritting his teeth, and Tamara added her signature as witness.

 

“As a ward of her Head of House, she is granted asylum and can reside in Norway until her home-country is safe once more. Should she wish to stay longer, Lord Black would need to apply for permanent residency on her behalf.” Her smile widened and the magic took hold, dissolving the agreement between Abraxas Malfoy and Cygnus Black. “I cannot wait to hear from the Malfoy lawyer. Lord Black, it was a pleasure.”

 

Shaken (he was unused to efficiency), the young man thanked both women and the Auror with as much dignity as he could muster when he wanted to hug them instead.

 

Once he and Mopsy were on their way out, he remembered one little detail. “Mopsy.”

 

“Master Lord Black Sir?”

 

“The Black family has primacy for you, but do you also belong to the Malfoy?”

 

Her ears flopped. “Mopsy does.”

 

Thinking about what Harry would say and do, he Conjured a glove and handed it to her. Because her ties to the Blacks had never been severed, all existing bonds dissolved instantly, and she looked like the world had just ended.

 

“Don’t panic. I’m freeing you of all bonds, but I am rehiring you to serve Narcissa and her children, exclusively. Can you resist orders from Bellatrix now?”

 

Speechless, Mopsy nodded so fast her face was a blur and threw herself at his legs, bursting with happiness.

 

Sirius then took a moment to write an order to the Dwarven bank to pay Tamara and make a generous donation to the Ministry, and he exited the building with Mopsy on his heels.

 

It was a victory, though he could only pray that the cost would not be too great.

 

Narcissa was free, but she had a long recovery ahead of her.

 


	26. New Arrivals

Draco couldn’t wait to be home to take a warm shower and a nap, but he was relieved that his emotions were no longer a wrecked mess. Lasertag was so much better than paintball. He had scraped his knee because he missed a step in the dark and he was sweaty and tired, but his ribs still ached after he laughed a little too much. He, Theo, Millicent, Terence and Astoria had utterly flattened Harry’s team - and they had a Werewolf with them. Surely his heightened senses should have helped, but no, Professor Lupin brained himself against a wall and couldn’t aim to save his life. The memory would go into a pensive for Sirius.

 

It had been a fantastic day. From the Wizarding area of the city, they Floo’ed to the Wizarding Post Office near the hotel and Harry made him laugh again when he landed on his stomach. Remus had a look at their postal box and the delighted grin on his face worried Draco, until he realised… OWLs and NEWTs results! He grabbed the envelopes. Forget the shower, this was much more important.

 

Remus shook his head, still smiling. “Alright, Side-Along Apparition everyone!”

 

And oh, but he did this on purpose, didn’t he? Of course, Draco would be the last one they’d fetch. It barely took two minutes, but it was too long for his taste. Nervous and excited, he distributed everyone’s letters, noting with a smug satisfaction that Daphne and Blaise looked vaguely sick. They only had one result, having only taken the Defence exam, but Draco imagined that it just reminded them that their OWLs were very, very close - in fact, they had barely a week left to revise.

 

He stood close to Harry in the entrance hall and opened his letter.

 

 

 

_INTERNATIONAL CONFEDERATION OF WIZARDS_

_SCANDINAVIAN MINISTRY FOR MAGIC_

_Branch: NORWAY_

_Please find enclosed the results of the Ordinary Wizarding Levels and Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests for Draco Sirius Black, born June 5, 1980._

_OWLs:_

_Ancient Runes O_

_Arithmancy O_

_Astronomy E_

_Creature Studies, inc. Care of Magical Creatures E_

_Dark Arts Theory O_

_Herbology O_

_History of Magic O_

_Muggle Studies E_

_Transfiguration O_

_NEWTs:_

_Charms O_

_Defence O_

_Potions O_

 

 

 

He certainly did not squeak, that would have been undignified, but he wanted to. He couldn’t believe he had managed three Outstandings at NEWTs level! Hearing Harry’s groan, he swapped their letters.

 

 

 

_INTERNATIONAL CONFEDERATION OF WIZARDS_

_SCANDINAVIAN MINISTRY FOR MAGIC_

_Branch: NORWAY_

_Please find enclosed the results of the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests for Harry James Potter, born July 31, 1980._

_Alchemy O_

_Ancient Runes O_

_Arithmancy O_

_Astronomy E_

_Blood Magic O_

_Charms O_

_Creature Studies inc. Care of Magical Creatures E_

_Dark Arts O_

_Defence O_

_Duelling O_

_Herbology O_

_History of Magic O_

_Magical Language: Parseltongue O_

_Magical Law and Politics E_

_Mind Magic O_

_Muggle Studies E_

_Potions A_

_Practices of the Ancient Magical World O_

_Spellcrafting O_

_Transfiguration O_

_Wandlore O_

_Please note that specialised NEWTs are available for the branches listed below. Reach out to your nearest Ministry for a complete list of sub-subjects:_

_Ancient Magic, Creature Studies, Dark Arts, Defence, Magical Art and Music, Magical Cultures of the World, Magical Languages, Magical Law and Politics, Transfiguration_

_The ICW also offers the following subjects for Witches and Wizards wishing to pursue their education in the Muggle World:_

_Art and Art History, Biology, Chemistry, Classical Studies, Economics, Geography, History, Introduction to Law, Language studies (please indicate the language(s) of your choice), Mathematics, Music, New Technologies, Physics_

 

 

 

“Acceptable in Potions?” He snickered and thought about sending the results to his godfather.

 

Harry rolled his eyes and kissed his cheek while everyone else discussed their Defence results. “It was Wolfsbane! It didn’t exist in ‘81. Technically, it means Voldemort got an A on his Potions NEWT. He probably got an Outstanding when he was at school but it’s still funny.”

 

“Fine, what about your E?”

 

“I didn’t remember when the first Star Wars movie came out or what MS Dos was. Astronomy is crappy and Voldy has no clue about recent discoveries, and I gave the wrong food to my baby Vipertooth for the Creatures practical. Charlie looked like I had betrayed all his hopes and dreams.”

 

Sighing dramatically, Draco thought about his own E on his OWLs and cringed, hoping he could push them to an O for his NEWTs. He listened to Theo worrying about his impending exams and bent down to scratch Perseus’ neck when Andromeda’s Patronus showed up.

 

“Draco, your mother is safe, we are at the hospital in Oslo, wait for me.”

 

He froze. Hospital? He tried to rush outside but Remus stopped him. “Go upstairs, take a shower and change clothes.”

 

“But-”

 

“Draco, please.”

 

A noise that sounded suspiciously like a whine came out of his throat, but he let Harry guide him to their room and didn’t complain anymore. He noticed that his legs were like overcooked noodles when he walked up the stairs and was thankful for his boyfriend’s quiet company. The stress and emotions of the past few weeks were gone; his body needed to adjust.

 

He showered faster than ever and even used a drying Charm on his hair, not bothering to make it look flawless. Harry had chosen clothes for him (and chosen well). While the other boy locked himself in the bathroom, Draco put on his robes, fingers trembling in anticipation.

 

Andromeda was waiting for them downstairs when they left their room. “I like your hair like that,” Harry murmured, running an affectionate hand through his messy locks.

 

“What, all curly and weird? It almost looks like yours!”

 

Draco still wasn’t used to odd bits of hair sticking out so much, but he had to admit he did look rather dashing. Less like a polished doll. Perhaps he could even manage the dangerous aura perfected by his adoptive father one day; Sirius was the kind of confident man who walked like a king and commanded everyone’s attention without sneers or disdain. He didn’t try to shove his superiority down everyone’s throats. Draco admired him immensely. Of course, he had also admired Lucius but Sirius, at least, earned people’s respect the right way.

 

“Can I come with you?” Astoria asked softly. “I was quite worried.”

 

“I guess, if you wish.”

 

Harry didn’t let go of his hand so he assumed he would follow as well. Good. He didn’t fancy being alone. Theo squeezed his shoulder in silent support and left with Blaise, probably to talk about the cute girl who sold them their lasertag entrance tickets.

 

Andromeda Apparated the trio to the hospital one by one and led them to one of the upper floors, where Sirius waited with a coffee in hand. Draco received a strong hug which he couldn’t get enough of, now that he was used to physical affection. “How- how is she?”

 

Stormy eyes almost identical to his own searched his face and a gentle hand cupped his cheek. “She’s stable now and resting, but there’s someone I’d like you to meet first.”

 

Intrigued, with Harry beside him, he followed him to the elevator while Astoria stayed behind to talk to Andromeda. Draco stopped dead in his tracks when they were welcomed by painted Nifflers, Pixies and Unicorns running on light pink walls. He read the sign and thought he was just struggling with his understanding of the language.

 

Sirius smirked and pushed him forward, into a room with a sign reading Early Hatchlings. His joints felt stiff as he took in the tiny beds surrounded by shimmering shields, and he moved closer to the back, his heart nearly beating out of his chest. Harry’s hand around his wrist anchored him to reality, and he gazed at an incredibly small, sleeping infant.

 

“Draco, meet your little brothers.”

 

Brothers? Plural?! He then noticed the second crib that was under the same shield. He felt a burst of love for the little sprogs who looked just as wrinkled and strange as Kreacher, only cuter. His eyes filled with tears. He had always dreamed of having a little brother, and now he had two? He couldn’t even think about Lucius, what he might do or what led to their existence. He leaned into Harry’s touch and kept his attention solely on the children.

 

“What- what are their names?”

 

“Well, your mother thought you should choose. Their middle names are Arcturus and Regulus.”

 

He sniffed and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He thought about star names, visualised the Black family tree, and the answer came to him almost as a revelation.

 

The nameplates on the cribs shone briefly and Baby One, Baby Two were replaced by Hydrus Regulus and Cepheus Arcturus Black.

 

Sirius nodded in approval. “Good names.”

 

“Black, though?” Harry asked, his voice a whisper.

 

“A simple marriage contract dissolution. Being Lord Black helps.”

 

“Lucius won’t let it go.” Draco frowned, reaching into the shield after a Mediwitch nodded at him in approval, and brushed a finger against Cepheus’ minuscule hand. “Did you do a Blood Adoption?”

 

“No. The ritual would tire them out and they need their energy. Their birth was difficult and they’re very lucky. Your mother might not want me to be their father either, so we’ll wait.”

 

He was startled by Harry’s sharp intake of breath. “Sirius, what do we know about them?”

 

“Not here. Come on, Narcissa should be able to see you now.”

 

Regretfully, they left, though Draco kept glancing at the room before the elevator came, protective instincts burning in his veins.

 

When the elevator doors closed, he looked at Harry. “Did you see something?”

 

“Just- you know I can see magical signatures, right? Hydrus is a bit like you, calm with a warm light, like a candle. Cepheus feels like the Arctic winter and has the same colour as the Killing Curse. I think- no, that makes no sense.”

 

Draco had to inhale deeply and exhale while counting to ten.

 

The elevator stopped and Sirius dragged the teenagers in an alcove and sighed. “Cepheus is of Slytherin’s blood. Not Riddle’s. The Healers tested him because he was shrouded in Dark magic before and after his birth.”

 

“How can a woman carry two children from two different fathers at the same time?” Harry wondered aloud.

 

“That’s what bothers you?” Draco hissed, doing his best to keep his head on his shoulders. “What happened to my mother?”  

 

It was obvious that Sirius would rather do anything but provide the requested explanation, however, Draco insisted, and he finally shared what he knew.

 

According to Mopsy, Narcissa yielded to Lucius’ demands for a new Heir and took a fertility potion. When she conceived, she was given the Draught of Living Death and brought to the Malfoy Ritual Chamber, where the Dark Lord ensured that one of the embryos would be his to raise as a perfect and loyal lackey. His plans, that he apparently exposed in the usual obsessive relationship he entertained with his own voice, were more to build a slave he could mould from birth than raise an Heir. After all, he was immortal, wasn’t he? Cepheus was an experiment.

 

He didn’t explain why he chose to manipulate the ritual with Necromantic spells, but Draco understood that he refused to taint the child with the blood of Tom Riddle, and perhaps even of his Squib mother. A smart move, perhaps. How he managed to clean his blood so it would only reflect his ancestor’s was an absolute mystery and something that didn’t bode well for the future. Unless he didn’t involve himself at all, which would be more likely, or he would have done it to himself first. He sincerely hoped there was no way to “cleanse” the population this way. Blood Adoption was more than enough.

   

Sirius went on to tell them how Narcissa had been imprisoned in the dungeons below Malfoy Manor, fed and kept healthy by magical means until the magic faltered and Mopsy called for help. The twins’ birth almost resulted in Cepheus’ death as he was too weak, likely from the shroud around him that should never have been there. The Healers thought he might be a Squib as a result of this experimentation; Harry agreed and said that while his magic sang clearly, the fact that it felt frozen struck him as odd.

 

And Draco found that he didn’t care about this at all. If Cepheus couldn’t use his magic, then he would teach him how to ride a bike instead of a broom, he would get his hands dirty with cookie dough to bake with him and he would tutor him in Maths and make sure he would be safe at his Muggle school - and he would love him, because he already did, Slytherin or not.

 

“The good news is that, by removing all traces of Gaunt and Riddle in him, Voldy is not his father,” Sirius declared.

 

Raising an eyebrow, Draco shook his head. “No, the good news is that the magic involved didn’t kill him. May I see Mother now, please?”

 

They walked up to her room and Draco went in alone, hands clammy, scared of what he would find. He imagined her bruised and unconscious, and he couldn’t have been more wrong.

 

Narcissa was sitting up, propped against her pillows and looking out the window with Mopsy by her side. Her hair fell down her shoulders in gentle waves and while she did look too pale and thin, she still exuded the strength of her bloodline. This was not a frail and defenceless creature, but a woman who went through Hell and survived it.

 

Her astonished expression was followed by a bright smile that almost had Draco sobbing in relief - but he kept his composure, like the perfect Pureblood Heir she had raised. There would be enough time to show her that he sometimes wore an oversized jumper, training pants and fluffy white socks just because they were comfortable. She would perhaps see Theo in one of his finest Fountain-Nose moments if he laughed when he had a drink, and she might witness Daphne wearing revealing Muggle clothing that would cause the Greengrass matriarch to die of shock. Also, Harry. That was another can of worms entirely.

 

He locked his thoughts away and bent down to kiss his mother’s cheek. She tilted her head, her eyes roaming over his face, and stroked his hair.

 

“I didn’t have enough time to tame it,” he explained. “It curls on its own. I apologise.”

 

Her smile widened. “You look quite handsome. A bit wild, perhaps, but that is what makes Sirius so charming. I am- relieved, that you no longer share Lucius’ features.”

 

“It is certainly easier to look into the mirror every morning. How are you feeling?”

 

She rubbed her thumb against his cheekbone, drinking him in. “I have been better. Your birth was much easier. Did you meet the twins yet?”

 

He could barely restrain his excitement when he told her about their names, though he knew that she had just subtly veered the topic away from herself. He guessed it wasn’t his place to be her confident. When she asked what he had been up to, he revealed his OWLs and NEWTs scores, basking in her pride, and he found himself talking endlessly about his school, his new wand, the long winter, Sirius’ terrifying driving abilities, and how much he thrived without Lucius in his life.

 

 

***

 

 

Astoria enjoyed Andromeda’s company, perhaps because she was paying attention to her while her own mother had ignored her for so long. So, it was with a huff of annoyance that she found their discussion interrupted, not by a nurse, or by Sirius who was walking back and forth after drinking too much coffee, but by Harry, who tugged urgently at her hand.

 

She excused herself and followed the older boy. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Can you check that family member link you have? Draco’s blood first.”

 

While she didn’t have the hang of her ability perfectly yet, she could easily find people who were related to each other in just a few minutes. So, she focused on the feel of the boy’s essence, and it shone brightly in five more beings nearby. Harry nodded at the results. Sirius, Andromeda, Narcissa, Cepheus and Hydrus would show up as having Black blood (Astoria couldn’t wait to see the babies after Andromeda had gushed about their cuteness).

 

“Okay,” Harry went on, “now, can you focus on Hydrus?”

 

“If you guide me.”

 

Recently, she and Harry had started working together, finding that the branches of magic they studied were too compatible not to join forces. Now, she felt the tendrils of his magic reaching out to hers, directing it towards the baby. She absorbed the sensation of purity, innocence and vulnerability that surrounded him, committing it to memory. Feeling his brother beside him, she took this opportunity to do the same, then retracted herself and opened her eyes.

 

“Alright, can you follow the Malfoy part of Hydrus?”

 

Dread filled her when she realised what he meant. And he was right.

 

Lucius’ presence was no longer far away from them.

 

“There’s a Tracking Charm on Narcissa,” she concluded in horror. “He’s here.”

 

They ran back to Sirius and Andromeda and shared their discovery in quick whispers. Blanching, Andromeda alerted a nurse who took way too long to understand the severity of the situation before leaving in a hurry, and Sirius sent a Patronus to Head Auror Hajjar. He then attempted to get the teenagers out of the corridor, but before he could speak, he was thrown against the wall by a powerful blast.

 

Andromeda turned around, wand raised, and Astoria enlarged her staff as Lucius Malfoy, face twisted in rage, came striding into the corridor. With Anti-Apparition wards in place, the Aurors would not be there as fast as they should.

 

The girl heard Harry whisper an unfamiliar spell towards the door to Narcissa’s room before the fuming Pureblood started cursing them, trying to incapacitate Andromeda. Harry stepped forward, casting a quick series or hexes at him after the man batted away his _Expelliarmus_.

 

A stray spell cut into Andromeda’s shoulder and she fell against the wall.

 

Lucius was in a frenzy, focusing on Harry. “ _Avada Kedavra_!”

 

 _“Invoco Murum!”_ The Killing Curse splattered against the stone surface erected in front of the teenager. “ _Evanesco!_ ”

 

_“Sectumsempra!”_

 

_“Absorbeo Incantamentum! Protego Maxima!”_

 

Astoria drifted away, leaving her body behind, her staff following her. She could hear hurried footsteps and willed them slower; Time obeyed but did not stop entirely. She managed to move behind Lucius before he could finish the incantation for Fiendfyre - the consequences of that spell in a small corridor would be catastrophic.

 

She dug into the power of the earth, using everything Ignotus Peverell had taught her.

 

The fabric of reality tore, the icy atmosphere of Death’s Realm spilling out. She brought her staff down on the floor twice, let the magic of the other world take hold of her. She was in a whirlwind, her powers rumbling like thunder, the smell of rain and the heaviness preceding a storm building up until spectral hands grabbed Lucius’ throat and dragged him with them. His anger morphed into pure terror and anguish as the passing of time went back to its normal rhythm.

 

The hole in the air stayed open long enough for the Aurors to witness the event, and they could hear the wizard screaming in unbelievable pain before the only sign that he had been in this corridor was the presence of his wand, broken in half on the floor.

 

 

In Wiltshire, in a beautiful library bathed in the scent of old parchment, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy’s body would be found by the House Elves in the morning, a soulless husk with a face forever distorted by pain.


	27. Expelled

Hogwarts was no longer Ron’s happy place, where he could have fun far from his mother’s scrutiny. Now, he missed his room at the Burrow, the gnomes in the garden and the ghoul in the attic. But more than anything, he missed his friends.

 

He knew he had screwed up in numerous ways and he wished he could take it back, he just didn’t know how, and thought no one would give him a chance. He still had no idea why Harry had reacted so badly to his letter. Perhaps, with his people-saving thing and after Diggory's death, he couldn’t stand the idea to lose a classmate, no matter who it was. That must have been it. And Malfoy was still alive, wasn’t he? He had heard that rumour often enough.

 

Maybe in the summer, he could visit Harry, or Harry could stay at the Burrow, and they’d make up with an impromptu Quidditch game. But in the meantime, he kept his head down and observed what was happening inside the school.

 

Ron was hot-headed and afflicted by a severe case of foot-in-mouth but he was also a Chess player who understood the dangers of having someone like Umbridge in charge. He used his Prefect status to stay out of her way and learn everything he could to eventually outsmart her.

 

Tonight, he was making his rounds alone as Hermione had lost her badge months ago. The corridors were quiet. Now that most people knew what detentions were like with the Toad, they no longer lingered after curfew.

 

He was about to end his duty for the night when he heard muffled crying behind the nearest classroom Squaring his shoulders, he pushed the door open and found a small Hufflepuff boy, white as a sheet and staring like a frightened rabbit, shaking badly. His hands kept jerking, which Ron found odd. 

 

“What happened to you?” He tried to keep his voice low so he wouldn’t frighten him even more. The kid shook his head, sniffling. “Come on, I can’t help if I don’t know. I won’t tell anyone, alright? Did someone attack you?” No answer. He sighed. “Do you like chocolate? We can get some cake and hot cocoa, what do you say?” Ah, bribery worked! The child’s brightened considerably and held out his hand, which was still trembling when Ron took it, then led him towards Gryffindor Tower after checking the Marauder’s Map (he discovered that the kid’s name was Luca Caruso, not that it rang any bell, he must have been a quiet little thing who fell under his notice).

 

He was about to break the rules again, but who would see it? The Defence Club had a meeting at the moment and almost every student in his House was attending. The Fat Lady didn’t say a word and revealed the entrance. Many portraits had decided to let students get away with their rule-bending, aware that Umbridge was a poison and that they didn’t need to feel like they had no ally at all.

 

When Luca was sitting comfortably, wrapped in a red blanket and nursing a cup of cocoa brought by Dobby (“Master Harry Potter’s Wheezy Sir is calling Dobby!”), Ron pretended to be fascinated by his homework to give him time to settle. The cocoa ran the risk of being spilt because of Luca’s unsteady fingers.

 

He spoke much sooner than Ron expected. 

 

“What’s an Obiviator?”

 

Ron almost tore the parchment he was holding. “Obliviator,” he corrected. “Ministry employees who erase people’s memories.” His gut twisted. “Did Umbridge tell you they’d come for you?”

 

The Hufflepuff nodded and rubbed his eyes furiously. Of course. The new law. Caruso was not a Wizarding name.

 

“Blimey, she expelled you?”

 

“Sh-she said Hogwarts didn’t n-need people like m-me. That I-I would be an example.”

 

“She cursed you too, right?”

 

Luca bit his lip and hesitated. Ron was fuming. A muscle in his jaw kept twitching angrily and his entire body was tense. He had seen the same tremors in Harry’s hands after the Third Task.

 

“Do you remember the spell?”

 

“Cru-Crucio. It hurts s-so mu-much every t-time, I thought- maybe I was dying.”

 

_ Every time _ ? Was this why he stuttered? Ron’s plate shattered, startling them both. He reigned in his temper to avoid breaking the table or worse.

 

“Okay, can you contact your parents?”

 

“Why?”

 

Ron looked at him, wondering if he had ever been that small at his age. “Well, the Obliviators will come for them too, and it’s better if they can’t find them.”

 

“My m-mum l-left when I wa-was litt-little. My dad isn’t a-at home, he travels a lot whe-en I’m here so-so maybe they can-can’t do anything to him?” He still seemed terrified but also hopeful now. “He is in Cos-sta Rica now, he films doc-documenta-aries.”

 

Ron had no idea what filming or documentaries were but Costa Rica had a Water Dragon Reserve. Charlie could most likely talk to someone there, who could then send an Owl to a Muggle tourist. But first, Luca needed a safe place to stay. “Dobby?”

 

The Elf appeared for the second time in just a few minutes. “Did Master Harry Potter’s Wheezy Sir forget something?”

 

“Err, yeah, see, Luca here is in danger and I thought you could help-”

 

“Master Harry Potter’s Wheezy is honouring Dobby!”

 

He cringed at his enthusiasm. “Can you bring us to Hermione? I’m not welcome there but I need to explain.”

 

Ron was brash and careless, but he also knew when a battle was worth fighting and this small First Year student deserved better than losing his magic and memories, no matter what the Defence Club members would say.

 

Dobby sent them both in the middle of a large and empty room. If it weren’t for the round doorway and carved snakes, Ron wouldn’t have recognised it. This was where Lockhart’s misfired spell had brought the ceiling down, forcing Harry to go on alone to save Ginny. 

 

Ron groaned, then reassured Luca that he was just remembering something, but in reality he was beating himself up over his own stupidity. Again. After letting his jealousy almost destroy his friendship with Harry, he had made another idiotic mistake and in doing so, had forgotten something essential about his best friend: his obsession with saving people and his ability to forgive, which, perhaps, meant that he didn’t blame Malfoy for anything. It would explain why he had reacted this way to his letter. What if… what if him and Malfoy were in hiding at the same location? Became  _ friends _ ?

 

He gritted his teeth, buried these thoughts deep in his brain, and stepped into the Chamber of Secrets.

 

It was filled to the brim with students of every House listening to Adrian Pucey discussing what seemed to be the content of the Defence OWL. The Chamber was well-lit, with training dummies everywhere and decorations that showed how much time people spent there. Every snake statue wore a hat and a scarf from a House. One of them even had radish earrings and a Butterbeer cork necklace that Ron had previously seen on Luna Lovegood. He almost choked when he noticed that one of the snakes who was dressed in Gryffindor colours had a shining lightning bolt above its eyes and round glasses on its snout.

 

He was so busy staring that he only realised everyone was looking at him after Luca poked him painfully in the ribs.

 

Hermione looked furious and was quickly advancing on him, so he raised both hands in surrender. “Just- listen, okay?” He pushed Luca in front of him. “This is Luca Caruso. Umbridge expelled him and Obliviators are coming for him. His dad is out of the country. Can he stay here until we can get him out?”

 

He was sweating and he suddenly understood how Harry had felt with the Heir of Slytherin nonsense and the Triwizard Tournament. Bollocks, why did he ever envy him?

 

Warrington emerged from the crowd, smiled at the kid, Conjured a gigantic pillow and invited him to sit. Anthony Goldstein and Cho Chang were soon doing their best to make him laugh, and Ron allowed himself to relax a little. Easier said than done when Hermione was still about to punch him.

 

“What do you want to do with him?” she asked. “He can’t live here forever.” 

 

“We need to write to Charlie and ask him to help. If he can get someone to contact Luca’s dad it should be okay, right? His dad can take him away.”

 

“And go where?”

 

“He’s a… I don’t know, he travels all the time, and they’re Italian so maybe they can go there for a while?”

 

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. “That’s all good and fine, but how do we get him out of Hogwarts?”

 

“I’m sure a teacher will agree to Apparate with him.”

 

“Who, Ronald? Professor McGonagall? She’s already at risk-”

 

“Then get someone Umbridge isn’t trying to fire! Babbling, Vector… they don’t have practical magic classes, the Toad doesn’t mind them!” His face was burning up and he imagined the colour of his skin had turned bright red. 

 

They were interrupted by Angelina Johnson who shook them both by the shoulder. “Sorry to intervene in your cute little lover’s spat but don’t forget some of us can legally Apparate already. And, we're almost done with NEWTs, she can’t touch us anymore.”

 

“Urg, lover’s spat? Please,” Pansy snickered with a full-body shudder, before kissing Hermione and winking at Ron. 

 

He was vaguely aware that everyone was laughing at his expression, and after a minute of stunned silence, he started laughing. Of course, he had known about them, Ginny had done her best to ensure he would be well aware of their relationship (his little sister was a sadistic fiend. That was also the only reason why she had dated Adrian Pucey for a week), but he hadn’t seen them kiss until now.

 

He lived in a strange, strange world. And perhaps it was the stress, but he found he didn't mind Slytherins that much anymore. Well, not all of them. But the ones in the Defence Club were okay. Maybe.

 

 

***

 

 

_ Ron, _

 

_ This letter-hiding thing is really useful. I have news: Mr Caluso will be at the Zabini residence waiting for his son in a few days. If you have the opportunity to get him out of Scotland before that, take it, Madam Zabini already has a room prepared for him and he'll be seen by a healer for post-Cruciatus damage.  _

 

_ Madam Bones alerted Beauxbâtons and Ilvermorny. It’s unofficial for now, but they’re accepting an unlimited number of foreign students in September. The only requirement is being Muggleborn or Muggle-raised. Interesting, isn’t it? Hogwarts letters won’t reach everyone this summer. _

 

_ Of course, there’s a spell on this parchment, so don’t try to talk about it to anyone. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but if someone reads your thoughts, they won’t see anything. Too risky otherwise. We’re effectively working against Fudge here. _

 

_ Until then, stay safe. I’ll be at the Burrow when you come home. _

 

_ See you soon! _

 

_ Charlie _

  
  


 

***

 

 

_ Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons _

_ Directrice : Olympe Maxime _

 

_ Chère Mademoiselle Granger,  _

 

_ Nous avons le plaisir de vous informer que vous êtes invitée à continuer votre éducation à l'Académie Beauxbâtons à partir du 1er septembre 1996. Cette offre est valide pour le reste de votre scolarité si nécessaire.  _

 

_ Vous trouverez ci-joint la liste des ouvrages et équipements requis. _

 

_ La rentrée étant fixée au 1er septembre, nous attendrons votre hibou le 31 juillet au plus tard. _

 

_ Veuillez croire, chère Mademoiselle Granger, en l'expression de nos sentiments distingués. _

  
  


_ Thierry Delacour _

_ Directeur-adjoint* _

  
  


 

***

 

 

_ A GREAT LOSS FOR WIZARDING BRITAIN _

_ By Rita Skeeter _

 

_ Today we mourn a fine citizen of our world, a Lord of the Wizengamot, philanthropist, caring husband and loving father: Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, born in 1954. It is believed that his heart couldn’t take the strain of losing his only child. Lord Malfoy died in his sleep. _

_ To read about Lucius Abraxas Malfoy’s numerous donations to charities, his life as an upstanding member of society and his work towards the betterment of our Ministry, see page 4. _

 

_ To read about Draco Lucius Malfoy’s kidnapping and death, see page 51. _

 

 

***

 

 

_ Grimmauld Place _

  
  


“Albus, Lucius was Kissed by a Dementor, why is the Prophet covering it up?”

 

Tonks ignored the twinkle behind Dumbledore’s glasses and tried her best not to bash her skull against the table. This Order meeting had been going on for two hours already. They had too many news to share, between the French and American schools taking the Muggleborns out of the country and managing to keep it quiet, Harry getting in trouble with the Scandinavian Ministry for Underage Magic (and only ending up with a small fine and a pat on the back from the Head Auror for protecting others, thank Merlin), the youngest Greengrass girl being required to register with the Norwegian Unspeakables and to get official apprenticeship papers to practice some secret magic even Dumbledore didn’t know about, and now Lucius’ death, which Snape reported a week ago but hadn't been public until now.

 

Remus, who had traveled with Andromeda, let out a long sigh while Tonks admitted to herself that yes, she had a crush on him. “Elphias, Admitting that a Dementor is on the loose would discredit the Ministry. They’d be forced to acknowledge that they don’t have them under control or that someone on the inside sent two of them to Privet Drive last year. They won’t admit they were wrong about Harry.”

 

“Point.”

 

Thanks to privacy laws in Norway, the incident at the hospital had not made it to the press and no one but hospital employees, specific Aurors and Unspeakables were aware that something had happened in that corridor. Andromeda had even appeared surprised when she found out that none of the Order members present tonight had any idea about it, except Remus.

 

“Severus, my boy, can you confirm that Voldemort is still in the dark?”

 

The man drank a small sip of his tea before answering. “The Dark Lord is furious, frustrated and even more volatile than usual. I believe he is scared. He is unaware that Lucius left the country before he was Kissed and thinks it happened within the walls of his home. He is keeping Lucius alive so the Manor won’t toss him out.” He finished his drink and stood up, sneering at Moody. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have brewing to attend to. Nymphadora, Andromeda, may I have a word?”

 

“I don’t trust him one bit,” Moody huffed for the umpteenth time as both women followed Snape in the drawing room. Tonks exchanged a glance with her mother and rolled her eyes, but stilled when she saw the Potions Master frowning at the Tapestry.

 

“I won’t put them at risk by visiting,” he started, “but I would appreciate it if you could tell me about them.”

 

Sometimes, being Secret Keeper meant Tonks was the only one who could speak to Snape and she didn’t exactly like it. But Snape was Draco’s godfather and Narcissa’s friend. He had allowed her to escape by distracting her husband and he deserved more than noticing new names on the tapestry and being left to wonder. So, she shared the Secret with him, automatically allowing her mother to talk about what was going on around the Tranquil Spire domain. She just hoped she hadn’t made a terrible mistake.

 

Andromeda seemed to agree with her and talked about Narcissa’s recovery and the twins who were still monitored but had been moved to Lilium under Crowfeet’s care. They could now leave the sanitary shield and be held.

  
They continued discussing the babies, any listening spell unable to pick up anything thanks to the Professor’s  _ Muffliato _ . When Snape hid a smirk under his palm after Andromeda told him that Hydrus threw up all over Draco’s school robes, Tonks felt like dancing. She had witnessed an event of extreme rarity. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Beauxbâtons letter is a copy of the French version of the Hogwarts letter, with this as a key difference: "We are pleased to inform you that you have been invited to pursue your education at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic from September 1st, 1996. This offer is valid for the remainder of your schooling if necessary."


	28. Sleeping Dragon

“Well, my friends, the day has come for me to leave your fascinating company. Tuscany awaits. While you use Warming Charms to swim in our admittedly gorgeous but cold as balls fjord, I shall enjoy the Mediterranean Sea, the sandy beaches and the sun of my home country. I shall think about all of you while I gorge myself on fritto misto, and I shall see you back here in September!” 

 

Harry watched the Slytherins argue about Blaise’s sanity, amused. Their dynamic could appear peculiar to outsiders but it worked; they were as close as their upbringing would allow (it wasn’t as strange as Harry using “peculiar” in his thoughts, but he blamed Draco for that). Susan stood on the sidelines, glaring at Terence after a nasty fight they’d had the previous evening. They were still together, as far as he knew, but then again he wasn’t exactly looking for gossip. All he knew for sure was that Susan was leaving with her aunt to visit foreign countries while Amelia continued her warning campaign. Right now, Harry didn’t care much, too busy feeding a gurgling infant, sitting on the outdoor sofa under a white canopy. Cepheus enjoyed drinking his milk from a bottle; he was fussy whenever Narcissa attempted to breastfeed him, so the black-haired teen often volunteered to help. 

 

He adored these babies. 

 

When Healer Crowfeet had finally declared them healthy enough to leave their shielded cribs in the infirmary, life at Lilium had become more complicated. Narcissa couldn’t leave her bed for extended periods of time and as such, the children were often tended to by everyone else. Sirius was excellent with them, though he often left for days at a time with Dumbledore. Draco couldn’t get enough of them, even if they cried or pulled his hair, but he definitely hadn’t been able to change their diapers. It wasn’t advisable to simply Vanish the mess, so he stayed far away from this particular duty and let his aunt deal with it. Until now, at least, since Andromeda was leaving for the summer. Kreacher took care of them when they cried at night.

 

Gnedykh had reached out to other Masters of the Dark Arts to understand what experiment had been performed on Cepheus. Voldemort had unearthed an ancient ritual that had last been used prior to the Founding of Hogwarts and had decided to use it much like the Horcruxes, which meant he had been overconfident and didn’t fully understand its consequences, dismissing the risks because he was so powerful that failure was obviously impossible. The ritual had not been used for so long for a reason: it turned a baby’s magic out of control. The black shroud around Cepheus had been his own powers, so perverted by darkness that they would have killed him before his birth if Fawkes hadn’t saved him. A child, even an adult, getting their blood modified by this twisted ritual either died or turned into a Squib. There had been no recorded success in History. 

 

Now, Harry almost hoped Voldemort would just use it on himself to cleanse his blood. If he died from it or lost his magic, it would be the perfect end for him. Or he could at least test it on his followers. Bellatrix would be a great guinea pig. Or Pettigrew.

 

Cepheus struck his chin with his tiny fist and the teenager readjusted the bottle. Draco said goodbye to Blaise by creating a small cloud and making it rain just above his head, and Harry kissed the baby’s forehead. “Your big brother is being silly.” 

 

He had to admit that Weather Magic was fun.

 

The school year was over. It had been an incredibly rewarding and interesting experience for everyone involved, and even though the traditional “end of year attack” had happened, it could have been so much worse. Harry barely remembered the duel. It had happened too fast. Andromeda’s wound hadn’t been severe and Sirius had regained consciousness shortly after Lucius’ disappearance through the hole in the air. The time both Harry and Astoria had spent explaining themselves at the Ministry had been painless and even turned out quite entertaining when they were invited to visit the Department of Mysteries. The young girl was now the official apprentice of Ignotus Peverell, as strange as it was to be taught by a portrait.

 

Draco had been thankful that Harry had protected him and his mother; he wasn’t much of a fighter after all. The strain on their relationship was gone; they were ridiculously happy and in love, which annoyed Blaise and had helped Narcissa accept that her son was dating the Boy-Who-Lived.

 

During the summer, Harry planned on taking more commissions for wands and he would take a break from teaching his peers and studying for more NEWTs. None of their teachers gave them an assignment, considering they had worked hard enough all year. He thought it was just because they didn’t want to start the school year by grading homework. 

 

With Sirius deciding to help Dumbledore, Miss Sundheim and Mister Hammer leaving to spend the holidays with their families, Remus, Andromeda, Tonks and her father staying in England for the next few weeks and Gnedykh going on a trip to study Lethifolds, the teens would be looked after by Toppy, Mopsy, Kreacher, Healer Crowfeet and Professor Flitwick. Narcissa was too fragile at the moment to do much more than cuddle with her newborns and read novels (she was quite fascinated by Muggle literature). Even with everything her husband had done, she mourned him and needed to be alone rather often. They had been happy, once. Draco sometimes found himself wondering what had happened to turn Lucius into a monster and Harry had no answer for him.

 

“Hey.” Startled, he glanced at Theo who stood in front of him with his arms stretched out. “I’ll burp him. Go help Draco.”

 

He snorted. “So eager to get regurgitated milk all over your shoulder?”

 

“Not really, but Draco’s losing control of his cloud.”

 

With a growing smile, Harry delicately placed Cepheus in his friend’s arms. The cloud was much larger and had turned an angry black, drenching Daphne, Astoria and Nathan Greengrass who had decided to visit his daughters and had Apparated in the wrong spot.

 

“I- I am so, so sorry Lord Greengrass,” Draco stuttered, dragging the cloud away on a leash of magic. Harry’s shoulders were shaking and he struggled not to mock his boyfriend, but he managed to send a leash of his own. Together, they sent the cloud above the fjord, and Draco fell into his arms and bit his shirt to muffle his laughter. 

 

Harry kissed his wet hair and let his own chuckles take over. It was such a gorgeous day, and that random cloud was doing its very best to drown the world because a Weather Magic enthusiast had no clue how to Vanish it. Nobody here had any idea what to do with it now. Harry could only hope it would go away by itself.

 

Draco caressed the back of his neck, let go of his shirt and pressed his mouth against his, smothering his giggles. Harry heard Lord Greengrass coughing and Daphne telling him there was no escaping the sickeningly adorable love birds around here - a statement that Draco immediately tried to refute until Harry kissed him again and made him forget they had an audience. 

 

When they parted, out of breath and cheeks flushed, they were alone in this part of the garden.

 

“This was unseemly, Potter. What will Lord Greengrass think?”

 

“He won’t have to review your marriage contract with Astoria, he can just throw it away. Actions speak louder than words.”

 

“So you did have an ulterior motive.”

 

“I never need a reason to kiss you. You’re very kissable.”   

 

“You’re lucky I love you.”

 

Harry blinked in surprise and stared in wonder at his grey eyes. Draco looked embarrassed and twisted his arms to get away from his loose embrace, but the black-haired boy tightened his hold on him and kissed him hard enough to bump their heads together and lose his glasses. 

 

“Love you too,” he muttered, rubbing the painful spot on his head when the blonde placed his glasses back on his nose.

 

The Birch trees around them rustled and their branches swayed gently in the breeze. 

 

Yes, it was indeed a gorgeous day to be alive.

 

 

***

 

 

In Scotland, Hogwarts students took their seats on the train, ready to go home and, for once, looking forward to being away from school.

In a compartment at the back of the vehicle, Hermione rested her head on Pansy’s shoulders, her Beauxbâtons letter safely hidden in her trunk. Neville and Ron were discussing the latest Defence Club meeting, where Ron had been accepted back into the group and the Seventh Years had given them an incredible lesson, with a program created by Snape. Luna was reading the Quibbler. In the compartment across the long corridor, Gregory Goyle, Lavender, Ginny, Dean, Seamus and Tracey Davis talked about Ilvermorny and who would go there next year. They were quite certain that Hogwarts would only go downhill from there if nobody stopped Fudge and Umbridge.

 

At the other end of the train, the old Quidditch Teams had come together to share Butterbeers and candies left behind by Fred and George.

 

Sixth and Seventh Years Purebloods from Dark families glared at each other. Future Death Eaters and Marked young adults who met the Dark Lord in the winter sneered at their old friends, those who would run even if their parents supported their wishes. 

 

Cassius Warrington. Adrian Pucey. Hazel Stickney. Alois Dolohov. Samantha Fawcett. Agatha Thrussington. Titus Avery.

 

They would not bow down. Some of them believed the next time they would meet their Dark-aligned year-mates, it would be on a battlefield. 

 

Students who were not part of the Defence Club lived in a bubble of denial and among them, Zachariah Smith and Kenneth Towler were polishing their Inquisitorial Squad badges. They were looking forward to another year where they could gain influence and power. After all, Headmistress Umbridge already made sure to tell the Minister how the children of specific employees deserved recognition and their parents had been promoted. Life was good for them.

 

When the train left Hogsmeade, Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Pomona Sprout and the new Head of Ravenclaw, Septima Vector, watched it disappear on the horizon from their spot on top of the Astronomy Tower.

 

“Has the Toad departed?” Vector asked with her arms crossed on her chest.

 

Snape glowered at the view. “Indeed.”

 

“Good. We need a plan.”

 

“We could hire the Weasley twins,” Sprout mused and Snape fought a smile.

 

“The pink monstrosity would arrest them for trespassing. I prefer poison.”

 

“Because you would never be a suspect should someone be poisoned in this school,” McGonagall said with a smile. “I’d Transfigure her into a mouse and eat her if she wouldn’t revert to her human form in my stomach. I am disappointed that the supposed curse on the Defence position didn’t destroy her.”

 

“Minerva, if the students knew you better, they would never consider Severus to be the scariest teacher here. Septima, anything?”

 

“I have a list.” She unrolled a parchment. “We need to protect the students. Severus can keep an eye on mini Death-Eaters-”

 

Snape sneered and raised an eyebrow.

 

“Surely you are not implying that this is solely my responsibility. There are just as many of them in your House, Septima.”

 

“Not helping!”

 

McGonagall felt her patience snap and pushed Vector away from the Potions Professor with a silent spell. “If you cannot work together on this, we have already lost. You are all forgetting an important detail: Dolores is hiring the new teachers for Charms, Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. We only had to deal with her until now; we will be watched closely and they will have all summer to prepare a miserable experience for our students. We cannot do anything visible.”

 

When Sprout inhaled sharply and let out a little squeak of excitement, Snape looked like he would rather be anywhere but there. Still, he listened as she reminded them that Hogwarts was sentient.

 

“If we can’t fight, let the school do it! The Elves and portraits are already helping. Imagine if the stairs started refusing to transport her and her cronies to the correct floor. Or if walls appeared randomly and doors didn’t open- Hogwarts can protect the students.”

 

A deep rumbling made four pairs of eyes widen; it seemed like the castle agreed.

 

“Never tickle a sleeping dragon,” McGonagall declared.

 

And her colleagues smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story continues in Part II. Thank you all for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> _I'm on Twitter:[FuzzyJawa](https://twitter.com/FuzzyJawa)_   
>  _And on Tumblr, which is brand new, because I lost the old one:[PenguinAnimagus](https://penguinanimagus.tumblr.com)_


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